November 22, 2006

"Is the glass half-full or empty?" I ask her as I fill it.
She said it doesn't really matter, pretty soon you're bound to spill it.
With the half logical language of the sermon she delivers
And the way she smiles so knowingly at me gives me the shivers.
I pull the blanket higher when I'm finally safe at home.
She'll take a hundred with her, but she always sleeps alone.
The girl with the weight of the world in her hands.

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