Written early monday morning, at some ungodly hour while "under the influence" Man that was hard to write.. She was breaking down- breaking 'til I'm waking up. Come on, what? Things you'll never understand. My style, never intending to impress, gets the dress of being critically acclaimed as a sure fire way to ruin your day. "Hello world- get up get up!" but I'm hanging up the phone 'cause no one's up for getting down. Mr.Downtown (me) is down for counts but up for you. Hold up in the system, what's this static between me and you? I'm not relating to an understanding. Try to pick me up- I'm down and all I'm hearing is our reproduction of a sad song stuck on replay. So love me fast because chances are this will change indefinitly. So with words spilling over nothing, I'd like to think it's still something. So tell me otherwise, or fill my mouth with words. So when I know I can't think anymore, my bottle goes empty and a sweet voice calls me from the other room- so it's not you, but no one ever is. What happens now? Is she up for getting down? Or am I just up because I am so down. Call me in the morning because right now the night does not know.