A little bit tired, a little bit drunk, all yours

I'm sleepy, been out all weekend, been waking up real early and not getting back to sleep.

I'm bored, every place I've gone I just sit, hardly talking, music playing in the background. People talk at me. I hardly hear enough of what they say to make a stab at replying. I don't want to answer anyway.

I'm down, don't know where it came from...well, I can guess. I drink a lot more. Bitter whiskey.

A little bit drunk

I'm drinking, but with venom. Never been much for being sober, but never been much for being sad.

I'm staggering, again. Rolling with it, swaying side-to-side and hitting off the walls.

I'm singing, to myself, soft stupid tunes with sad silly themes. And they matter, right now, to me.

All yours

Girl, I'm missing you, like I know I shouldn't. Like I said to myself I never would. It's gone wrong again inside my heart, I'm glad I know now it still can. That I can still feel for someone. But its hold on me, I don't know...I fear it.

This wasn't how I wanted it to be.

This time, things were going to be perfect.

No more hiding, no more cloak-and-dagger, no more sneaking back to where we were supposed to be, before anyone found out.

No more stress from the bitterness of your divorce.

Just you, and me, together and enjoying ourselves, no more distance between us.

You're free now, and I'm clear.

So this time, things were going to be perfect.

Of course, I couldn't have anticipated today.

First the bomb scare at Paddington, having to transfer from the train to the bus at Oxford, and come into Victoria instead. Re-planning my route round London and inevitably missing the train.

Then you being in a meeting when I called, and that idiot man failing to pass on my message. Why didn't he just let it ring to voicemail for goodness sake?

My cellphone cutting out while you were still shouting at me, angry because I wasn't there. Accusing me of hurting you deliberately as some kind of revenge. (Shush --I know you're sorry, I know you didn't mean it, you're forgiven, of course).

I certainly didn't didn't mean to meet you with my eyes red and swollen from crying, four hours late, and having sunk too much Bacardi

Things were going to be perfect

But I'm here now -- a little bit tired, a little bit drunk, and all yours -- if you want me.

Honey you are a rock...

Twice I lost my faith, once my patience, and several times, my sanity. I'm tearing down the calendars, and removing batteries from the watches on the way to see you. I'm blinding myself to the time. I'm a little bit jaded, a little bit torn.

... Upon which I stand.

Last night I couldn't go to sleep. I tried to lie down motionless, and breathe real slow, I tried to numb my thoughts. I tried to start to dream, but only dreams I saw were ghost flashes like the ones sun leaves in one's eye if stared at too long.

This morning I woke up on a cold bed alone, a little bit sleepy, a little bit lonely.

and I come here to talk...

Your thoughts and our memories intoxicate me each waking hour. I can taste the moments I've spent touching your hand sometimes and some days I start to smell like you. Some days I'm saddedned by the memory of times I gave up on you. I'm a little bit ashamed, a little bit stronger.

... I hope you understand ...

Come, show me the birds again. Come, give me the wings one more time. Teach me how to fly. I'm a little bit tired, a little bit drunk, all yours ...