I wake alone, in a woman's room I hardly know. I wake alone- and pretend that I am finally home. The room is littered with her books and notebooks. I imagine what they say, like, 'Shoo fly, don't bother me,' and i can hardly get myself out of her bed for fear of never lying in this bed again. Oh chrsit, I'm not that desperate. oh no- oh God- I am. How'd I end up here to begin with? I don't know. Why do I start what I can't finish? Oh please, don't barrage me with questions to all those ugly answers. My ego's like my stomach- it keeps shitting what I feed it. But maybe I don't want to finish anything anymore... maybe I can wait in bed 'til she comes home and whispers "you're in my web now - I've come to wrap you up tight 'til it's time to bite down". I wake alone in a woman's room I hardly know. I wake alone - and pretend that I am finally home.