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ten day stubble...
i don't want to shave...
bags under blood shot eyes...
a cigarette hangs
from my blue lips
the smoke stings my eyes...
there's a rip in my shirt
right down to the bottom,
but no one can see it
when i tuck it in.
my hair's getting longer
and so is my face.
my skin is getting grayer
to match my eyes.
you know
i don't look a thing
like my passport photo anymore
i could tell you
a bedtime story,
but i wouldn't trust me.
i get way too melodramatic
and i forget the endings.
i never liked a.m. radio
it sounds too much
like all the music
that my parents used to play
every fucking sunday.
my hair's getting longer
and so are the bills.
my skin is getting grayer
to match my heart.
you know,
i don't even recognize
my passport photo anymore. 
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