I read a story by Joyce Carol Oates, man that chick is prolific
Brought me to my knees and left me a dopesick lovesick sidekick 
But you know me oh, I’d read another one but I keep losing my mind instead
I gave up the world for you from the days of our veins to courting the dead
I don’t see nobody anymore, words feel like crowbars
I can’t recall all our old names but at least now I know where you are

You are here with me, you are gone
You became the old rose tree
You became the night’s first star 
And now you are this song

Busted down doors, blood in the drain, the rusted reign of you and me
In the recess of those remains just know that I am empty
Maybe I should fermez la bouche, go back to sleeping in some strangers’ beds
You gave up the world for me from the high wire act to muddling ahead
I feel sick, I feel sad, drunk as a drunk in an airport bar
Cold as a mailbox out in the country but at least now I know where you are

Spoons and  needles, pawn shops, parking lots
Yeah I’d say we wasted our youth
But under the smeared greasy moon I still hum the Midwest blues
A chokehold on my throat, I cry due to the aforesaid
Life’s a sad dark mess we’ll never solve, Mrs. Oates said
I might go down to the lake, listen to the waves write their memoir 
I’m lost, I’m alone but at least now I know where you are