Fold Out Furniture.

I'm in the back having a sip of that sweet sin drenched in your breath
And I am picturing the way the moonlight shines through that dress you wear that I like so much.
My head wants out of the disembodied principles I assemble and pile on top of myself.
Another long story short of course, my body will be left to rot.
Don't touch the skin, keep your hands away from me.
My time has been paid for,
There is nothing I have left anymore.
There is nothing for you here.
Keep living at a distant second,
And keep drinking that same old shit you use to make the ghosts quit scaring you awake.
This is the end of all the parties you've ever blacked out and fell into.
Please call me back,
Call me back and you'll learn all about why I refuse to give a damn.