I'm running over statistics that never change. 
I am alone and in costume for a world in pain. 
The nights drag like days fly 
And I wish it were me instead. 
I'm dreaming old songs 
That reminisce and never miss the hardened point. 

Freshman sins still singe the soul. 
Do you feel as old as I do? 
I never thought I'd miss that sting, 
That un-called-for pain. 

I'd wanted to believe in Freudian slips 
When you murmured an "I love you" 
That was intended for your girlfriend. 
Force of habit when skin touches skin touches sheets. 

What has followed but shared elevator rides? 
Since then the stairs have seemed easier. 
Years pass like eyes drop 
When caught in an awkward glance. 
I'm dreaming old songs 
We never sang. 
Thank you for absence of memory. 
Thank you for making me a statistic. 

**

April 10th, 2002