On a pile of feather blankets

you sit facing across from me

I know your speaking English

your eyes seem to be fading, drearily

your words come out like nothing

things you only say humbly

my arm alarm clock is blinking

reminding me that time goes to slow

the books around my bedroom

telling me that I should really go

but something tries to stop me

its your reflection in my window

all around me

little eyes are watching from my walls

I have no solitude

they stand their like little china dolls

and some days they are silent

and other days they walk around in shawls

so you put your arm around me

and told me not think all those thoughts

but some things should be said

and other have to stay as inkblots

you know I said I’m sorry

so what’s the deal with all the nightspots?

And now my memories have left me

bundled up and thrown on the floor

and when I tried to say goodbye

you got up and slammed out the door

I guess something should stay hidden

so goodbye my old and trusty mentor