I gave the gift I got for you to Maggie and Julia,

It was two sachets of hinoki wood you could put in the bath,

And the scent when they opened it up in the shit bar that we were in,

I was lost in a dripping wet Japanese forest with bamboo high over my head,

And everything's fine I guess, but I wish I were dead.

And now my hands covered with clay painting slip on this stupid mug,

Without you across from me determinedly working away,

With your cute scrunched up face, trying to realize your vision,

Without making any mistakes,

Or having me get in the way,

And I've got so inside of this I don't know what to say.

And why'd I leave it on the kitchen table, rushing out the door to see you?

On that sunny Sunday afternoon, I learned you don't want a thing from me,

And clay only lasts for 2 weeks before it dries out, Unless you run it through the mill, which is twice the time,

That you gave to me, to see if this could work, If we could work.