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Love Song For Myself

de Caroline Rose

Waitress sets the tables, two and four and six
Laying placemats, knife, fork, spoon upon napkin
All the counter people, she knows us all by name
A counter people vision, everywhere we are the same

Oh, and once everything starts to shift
Tip the weight that makes this whole thing give
Oh, but I don't know where to put my hands
And the thought of silence makes me sick

Hey, I think it might be getting to me
Hey, I think it might be finally getting to me
Hey, I think it might be, finally getting to me
Hey, I think it might be, finally getting to me

The women with their jewels and their long dangling earrings
And the men with one hand on the small of her back
The other casually with his thumb
Through the belt loop of his waistband

And so you line 'em up
A single cell and another one gone
Ostracon vase with your name on the line
And so you line 'em up
A single cell and another one gone
Ostracon vase with your name on the line

Hey, I think it might be getting to me
Hey, I think it might be finally getting to me
Hey, I think it might be, finally getting to me
Hey, I think it might be, finally getting to me

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