i heard the rhythm
as you tapped away
black hair
that only fades
and brown eyes
that dissipate to gray,
all those nights
I wish these friends of yours
were friends of mine
and these prayers they shared
were something I believed

Now the prayers I preach
are cursing chants
suffering alone,
vintage jackets and
ripped jean pants
doc martens-- I look like,
someone I saw you with,
or thought you'd look great with,
my name's Jay,
I thought I'd say,
wish I knew yours.