| Are you awake yet?
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| Because if there’s a part of you that’s working,
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| There’s apart of you that hasn’t sobered up.
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| In someone’s living room, I’ve only heard the coffee maker,
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| Someone’s car starting out there on the lawn.
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| We haven’t seen the sunrise in twenty seven years.
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| We’ve been waiting; |
| cornered, like we’re animals.
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| In abandoned living rooms,
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| We don’t know what we can have and what is saved for someone else who has a key.
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| Are you asleep yet?
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| You can tell my ears aren’t burning
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| All the quiet names make up to make us laugh.
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| Find us an apartment with enough outlets for all of us
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| Where we won’t wake up your kid or pets or dad.
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| This isn’t eating.
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| We can’t count dollar menu hunger as something that isn’t cold that we can eat.
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| We aren’t broke yet, but have to find a space
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| Between our bodies find our minds and walk in off the street.
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| Can I come home yet?
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| The jokes are only jokes
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| And every liar wants his own set of new eyes.
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| Can I just leave again?
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| I kept my promises and all I did was read about the end of it on the news. |