can't do this anymore, she must
have said when she walked away.
something of a bitter sulk
drives away my imagination
and i want to hold the
pain of this boy as she leaves
him. give him a map, give him
a map. give it to him and tell
him to pretend he's melted into
another world.
tell him thats how i get by
when i can't take it anymore.
but here in this bar, they don't
have dusty maps and bottled
hope to serve
so i look at the bartender and
say, "his next beer is on me."
and the boy drinks the beer that
he hasn't even asked for
and as i make my way to
the door i slide him a note-
get a
, it tells him and he
stares for a minute

and then smiles back
at me. we dreamers
are alike.