head down by a returned book of poetry
a cellphone full of numbers saying "please"
love passes like a kidney stone
because it's christmas and i'm alone

i deserve all that i got
"why?" you'll ask, i'll pretend i forgot
thumbing the road for the skirts i know
because it's christmas and i'm alone

in a cosmic sense, i'm full of doubt
but my heart still tumbles out and about
looking for what it knows is gone
because it's christmas and i'm alone

erased your memory on a whim
it's a natural part of a brain to trim
a few drinks, and i'm doing the same with my phone
though hoping tomorrow i'll still be alone