An Illustration Of Loneliness Sleepless In New-york

I lay awake at four, staring at the wall Counting all the cracks backwards in my best French Reminds me of a book I skim-read in a surgery All about palmistry, I wonder what's in store for me I pretend the plaster is the skin on my palms And the cracks are representative of what is going on I lose a breath... my love-line seems intertwined with death I'm thinking of you too I lay awake at three, staring at the ceiling It's a kind of off-white, maybe it's a cream There's oily residue dripping from the kitchen It's art-deco necromantic chic, all the dinner plates are kitsch with Irish Wolf Hounds, French baguettes wrapped loose around their necks I think I'm hungry, I'm thinking of you too I'm thinking of you too I'm thinking of you too I'm thinking of you too I'm thinking of you too Wondering what you're doing, what you're listening to Which quarter of the moon you're viewing from your bedroom Watching all the movies, drinking all the smoothies Swimming at the pool, I'm thinking of you too I'm thinking of you too I'm thinking of you too I'm thinking of you too Stan.