They'll suggest we play Scrabble
While they shoot me furtive glances
Thinking I know what's going on in their minds
Thinking I have extra-sensory perception
When it comes to desire
They look at me like I'm dangling
Like I'm the last person left in the Universe
Yet to see sunlight
Yet to experience
Their special brand of salvation
They're wondering who's going to preach to me first
Because someone has to do it
Or do they share it?
Do they take joint responsibility
For my soul's rescue?
They play Scrabble
Then Monopoly
Then Trivial Pursuit
It's funny
The things they can't remember
Or rather
What they believe they can't remember
What they think's been stolen from them
Things they never knew in the first place
They now claim
Are the victims
Of their addictions
And here's me
Still holding mine
Still cradling my fatal flaws in my arms
Like swaddled up babies
And rattling off the answers
To questions
About the Civil War
Maybe they're worried
I brought a soapbox of my own
So I can stand
And demand
That they tell me
They're not unhappier now
Than they were five years ago
Oh sure, we were messes then
Slovenly, sloppy
Filthy, depraved
Messes
But didn't we have fun?
They're sure as hell not having fun now
Oh, they tell themselves they are
They tell themselves
They've having a grand old time
But we used to make fun
Of the people who act they way they do now
And they haven't forgotten that
I would be very surprised
If they'd forgotten that
Then again
It's amazing what people can forget
Isn't it?
It's amazing how easy it is
To freeze yourself
And tell yourself
That you've always
Been frozen
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