you'll lounge on beach chairs
sipping alcoholic somethings
chatting softly in spanish
while gorgeous model-types
fawn over you.

and i'll tuck myself away
in big cities near the american border
because i have nowhere else to be
other than small apartments
filled with smoke
and other death-inducing chemicals.

when you send me letters
i tear them into pieces
with every intention of
putting them back together
in an hour or two
and reading
how much you miss me, miss me, miss me.

and when i call your expensive cell phone
i get a secretary
intent on disposing of me
and my canadian accent.

the truth is, you never liked overly skinny girls
and drinking really isn't your thing.

the big cities i'm tucked away in
are just to hide the fact that i have nowhere better to be.