Houston, We Have a Drinking Problem - Wow, Owls!

There was laughter one fall ago, now its distilled

The remenats are tinted brown sinking to the cup tipped upfor a toast

Your window is a television lit up with a line of pretty people

Waiting for their fifteen minutes

The actors are fake friends but at least I know they don’t secretly hate me

Can you hear me?

Can you hear me clipping on your radio?

There’s a song playing on my stereo

I sing along wishing I could become a vessel

So my soul can soar, can travel back in time

I sing along to my stereo

It always sounds better in my head

I wanted to write a fuck you song, now i know that the you could be me

There’s a vague resemblance in the looking glass to a person that I once knew

Maybe hed tell me, «its a sad stale coffee cup slogan, youre not going to make

it.»