After the sun sets on The fifth and final day of The twelve seasons of unhappiness I will unfold the letter From the boy in Amsterdam.
Under the western stars At the center of humanity I will meet him in the time between Functional and happy.
Only then will I understand how small The world really is.
Meet me just west of The old gas station where we used to Drink and smoke and hate the world In the parking lot Under the lamplight at midnight I will give you the kiss you’ve been waiting for And you will give me the disappointment I always knew you would.
I am not in this world to love Or be loved But to thrive in the bad weather And appreciate the poor timing.