Every time I die, I just happen to be thinking of you.
Let's hope this time, you're coming to my funeral.
And I heard your Mom, she made you cry sometime on Thanksgiving.
So what are you thankful for? But atleast the new year's close.
And so now, it's 2:05 and I'm smoking on my backporch,
With nothing but a t-shirt on.
Let's hope they don't catch me; I hope you don't catch me this time.
Now, I hear cans hitting each other in my neighbor's yard.
I think it might be you. Coming to visit? No, I know it's not you.
See your neighborhood's too far away,
And right now I doubt you'd waste too much energy, running to St. Joseph.
I spent all your money, thinking you wouldn't come back,
But as soon as I smoked, you called me at noon.
So every time I die, I think of the wind that's blowing.
And you said that you would smoke,
But your hit count is the last time you talked to me, divided by two weeks.
(Which equals zero.)
Come in. Come in. You see these nights of boredom growing?
I know you want to call me so just do it; it's not too late.
This paper just so happens to be one that you wrote, "I luv yooh" on.
See every time I die, I want you to know you are my last thought,
And that I only think of you. I only wish for you at Summer in my bedroom.
Fall was fine, but December will steal you.
And I'm falling with the temperature as it drops and drops.
But thanks for October. The fifth of November sucked - remember that game?
But like Adam says, if you think you might some to California, I think you should.
Except now I wish I was in California, too - so please forgive me.
And I heard your Mom made you cry again, this past Thanksgiving.
Well, silently in my head, I said I was so thankful for you, and our Octobers.
Anyway, this time I'm sober and I really am honestly sorry.
