The Frames That Used to Greet Me

It's a problem that our choices choose the wrong ones That's probably the reason we're afraid we'll die alone To a fault defending a simple course of action We're distance and distraction from the nights we'd spend at home Your eyes seem to observe my room so neatly Behind the frames that used to greet me At the bar around the block Tonight they tell me that you never sleep too soundly That you might have even missed me More times than you could count As you quietly let yourself out