Old Words Worn Thin

I hate these moving days

Taking stock of what comes with

I know I did not make the cut

But I can drive the truck

Keeping score, yours and mine

This was in our kitchen

This was from our bedroom

Remember this?

I made a mess of my house, of us

Do I have everything?

Okay, one last trip

Where can I, where can I live?

Where can my records go?

Decide, no help this time

Is this what I wanted?

My shoes, my coat, set by the door

No one, alone

I got what I wanted, I moved alone

Sit by the door, wait for the company

I must remember

I lost more friends

I made the choice

I set the table

I sit and wait for you to notice

No, no, no, no