A worldwar lovesong
could sound too long
if you listen wrong.

Slow newsday singalong,
sing along it's not my fault,
the faults long gone.

So crawl through a window,
stand on a chair,
there's party snacks in the Tupperware.

Sleep where you're sitting
and think about nothing,
there's nothing worth missing.

Except for you, WW nude.
And some bridges.
And well-wishing.
Are still missing,
are still missing,
some bridges and you are still missing.

The brain is empty, a scary inventory,
I feel inhuman enough now
to relate the story of grand mal amenities
seizing lovesongs from the enemies.