How can you look at me, with no trace of irony,
and say, “We’ve always done it that way.”

My darling my precious stone, my baby girl, my only one.
Sitting in the burnt-out ends of waiting rooms.

Remember when it didn’t hurt like this,
when I  could make it better with a kiss?

So how can you look at me, with no trace of irony,
and say “We’ve always done it that way.”

Time again and time again and time goes on
and eats your mind away.

“We’ve always done it that way.”

Staring at the dust on all the picture frames,
waiting for the clipboards and the calm.

Waiting for the moment to go on.