It's easy to believe that nothing is changing
outside the breakfast all night restaurant,
where you tap a cigarette in a square glass ashtray.
You wish for a waitress to ask what you want,
to bring you dark coffee that you can make light.
What you get is a waitress that wants to be gone
and coffee that you can still see through at night.
But, it's here, so it's fine. You drink it and smoke.
You try to forget that outside is your life,
and it hasn't paused, at all like you'd hoped.
Since it first turned bad, it hasn't turned around.
A booth for four, tonight, is only for you and your ghost.
Your waitress sets the plate. You hear the sound
but don't really notice. She freshens your coffee up
and now you look normal, behind bacon, eggs and hash browns.
You stay until the endless cup of coffee is too much
and there's no choice left, but to walk into November,
wondering why this is always what comes after love.