Well, it's late at night.

There's nobody around.

Just the sounds of the cars

Upon the asphalt ground.

It's the waiting time,

When the hours grow still.

I gaze on through the glass

Inside my windowsill.

Though I know that you must be

Somewhere in this world,

In this place where, at birth,

You and I were both hurled,

To think that we once were relating

Is a thing that has almost grown foreign to me.



It's a bad sight,

Such a terrible waste,

To spend your time talking

In such bad taste.

It's the same old line,

Though it's not you I blame.

It's your teachers and television

That you put to shame.

The night's lasting longer

Because I've filled my head

With the things I could have done

And the words I could have said.

But, in truth, I was only spectating

And that's a permanent part of reality.



So many rude lines,

So many petty crimes

And you don't feel a need

To apologize.

Tonight is the time

That you stick in my mind,

But from now on I won't become

Vandalized.



Now the room's started filling

With the dawn's early light

And the end has arrived

Of this long night.

I turn off the television

And I hit the bed

While your shade is still haunting

My ever-vulnerable head.

And there's no use

In trying to compromise

When the kindest things we say

But it's time I should quit my complaining

And behave with a little more dignity.



So many rude lines,

So many petty crimes

And you don't feel a need

To apologize.

Tonight is the time

That you stick in my mind,

But from now on I won't become

Vandalized.








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