A Loose Hair Falls Into A Glass Of Water Without Ice

If this is all part of some plan
If this is all part of some game
If this is some self affirming notion
If this is all exactly what i think it is
Our phobias are the only conversation
I dont want to say anything right now
Smoke gets in your eyes
And loose hairs fall into a glass of water without ice
It’s giving you a stomachache
Which comes as no surprise when you say that your head is throbbing
Or how tired that you are
Now loneliness has turned into a desperate thing
I dont want to think about that now