sort of

I liked her better when she was sweet and innocent and didn't really know who I was.
and when was that exactly?
Well I don't really know, I just kind of like the sounds of it, nothing really makes sense,
when you're alone and crazy.
I got fog on the brain tonight, a thousand hours ago, parking lots and copper lights girls on their way to being somewhere else with someone else and becoming someone else.
and fine with me.
I'm just trying to wring it out of my memory and move on to the next one, that great one waiting in the wings to club you in the temples while you ask for some more and wonder why it's happening to you.
Yeah I got a beating coming, and I'm not going to beg for it because it's on it's way, like some patient snake that knows it's going to sink it's fangs into you, it's just waiting for the right moment.
Wheeew, metaphors.
whatever.
Cynicism stops by now and then and tells me to say whatever, and I usually listen.
Beat me up.
I'm not going to worry about it anymore.