i'm sitting in the kitchen
sipping poison
and sucking some tomorrow
through the filter of a marlboro light
blowing rings of smoke
more real than me

april's in the attic
painting the windows black
and filing her misery
in alphabetical order

so,
maybe it's time to move on
give change one more try
throw my matches down
and see if god lights the sun

hell,
what have i got to lose
but the rotting apple of my eye

all i know
is something has to give

the pallor of my skin is disturbing
and eternity
is darker than i imagined