No.

I can't just sit quietly

when they're playing

my song.

I have to do this again.

I have to do a lot of things.

I'm alone,

I'm a trucker, I'm on the streets at night

with my pet monkey

begging for bread and falling in love.

I'm everything and nothing,

and I'm Paulo Coehlo's desert

and his sun and his son,

and I am what you want

and therefore I am everything.

I'm an idiot teenager,

controlled by hormones, but I

know why Vermont this summer.

And no.

You say you're not ready.

The difference is

you thought your clothes

were still on in my fantasies, but

this is the night they're singing about.

Why won't you follow me everywhere I go?

We could live together,

like kings and like rats,

and I could provide for you by making

absolutely nothing of myself.

For I am

everything.

And I became everything because

that means a part of you.

But no.

I can't be everything

anymore.