Hi Mom

Hey, How about this,

We drank from the bottle
to throw fits at the fridge
and when the tap went on the fringe well,
we threw another fit
and its better luck next time yeah,
its better luck with him
and its short straws and party time
and its sophies draw on ladies night

So we fill the bars oh
its nothing but a dive
and we wish the stools
weren't jacked so high
and we shoot our mouths,
but only blanks come out
and glory big crammed jams
and beats-- rhyme a few more times,
cry a few more times,
tell me something real this time

so she left, and then he stayed
one felt empty
the other so fed up
to the ears with everything
they chose to hear,
with real big words,
a black book full of spells,
that couldn't spell
a fairy tale from just a tall tale;
or the kickless joke from a boxed in quote,
signed the note with the wrong name,

but you look mighty well fed,
and you look pretty clothed,
and when you're broken
and you're alone,
I'll be on my way girl,
on my way home
where no one waits,
no not at my home
an empty big bed,
that's always froze
a lone impression,
and a sober tone
and all its missing
isn't what you think,
so go on girl have another drink,
and another look around,
and drink the water from the tap,
or straight from the bottle
there's no scheme here,
just a fucking flow,
because I wake up everyday
and thank god I'm not you,
or him, or anyone that waves to me,
and thank myself for not waving back.
So drink from the bottle girl,
drink from the tap,
look in the mirror,
see if you'll wave back.