In the earthquake notebook

Since this is a celebration of how I goof off in class here are some words....

You turned away, handed in your keys

In the end, all you left behind was me.

Walk the hallways that once were streets,

the streetlights dim as I repast singly..

So here I am sitting pretty

in a house that was once a city

and you're my voluntary refugee

and when we fight

WE FIGHT HARD.

wreck the city with our war

and in the end we're left with broken hearts.

Buildings crumbled,

I'm under rubble.

pick, pick, pick up the pieces.

....yup. this was from trying to remember the song 99 luftballoons. don't ask