I should have listened to you when you talked

and taken down every word you spoke in a line

I could have learned something, maybe not

Oh well, I guess it's my loss this time

I could maybe make it along the way, go all alone

take a bus instead of walking all of the way there

with dwindling money, just enough to get me home

just my little room where noone can hear me, nor care

I guess I can always go on in my old world of lies

and my little shoe box appartment, myempty windowling

then go back to my work where they all laugh inside

always pointing at me in secret, always whispering

or maybe i can wake up and try it all for real, prepared

with a little white sheet and a pencil to hold of mine

so i can write down every word you speak on paper

Oh well, I guess I'll try to do it right this time

perhaps... it's best this way.