Inmates

When you said you loved me...
did you really love me?
Or did the words just spill out...
like drool on my pillow?
‘Cause I was naked when you said those words,
but I felt covered in your whispered worship.

And as you passed out fast on my shoulder,
I imagined a child waiting so sad and still for his mom to arrive.
Did she leave you an orphan,
in that big, brown leather chair?
Said, “ Don’t you move a muscle, kid,
I’ll be back in twenty years,”
You were scared, you were lonely,
but you must’ve been aware;
life is a series of calluses, this is just another layer.
So, build’em up, tough it out...
Yeah, that’s your skin – don’t let anyone under there.

-The Good Life