Tip

I feel like a tip,
At seven percent, and it's embarrassing;
She left me and I am nickels and dimes beside the pepper;
I keep watching the same cord severed:
I see us spinning our lives together,
Then a cord like a mother and child—
I know that's gross, but it's
Appropriately depicting the thing that I feel...

I'm at the end of the slide;
It's time to recline and feel the cool plastic;
I have yet to decide, decide if I'm tired of climbing that ladder;
My hands are becoming leather;
They twist and burn in the deepest nether:
The steel is taking it's toll—
I know I'm not old, but I told you already
Just pity the thing that I feel...

I don't want another name
To think back on and feel ashamed;
I don't want to play a game

With a piece of my mind...
I still can't decide
What one should say in these situations;
She wanted to say one last goodbye and I wouldn't stop her;
I keep watching the same cord severed:
I see us spinning our lives together,
Then a cord, like a mother and child—
I know that's gross, but it's

Appropriately depicting the thing that I feel.
I don't want another name
To think back on and feel ashamed;
I don't want to play this game

With a piece of my mind...
(...make you feel on top of the world...)
(...the old music...)
(...so I welcome you... not alone...)
(...wholly free from guile...)