You know we're just waiting
for this clock to fall and forget about it
(will you even remember?)
and for my lips to stop bleeding
against everything everyone assumed.

Because t-o-m-o-r-r-o-w
it's a month, and so I guess you could say
this is a happy poem.
I haven't mentioned anything, because
again I'm waiting for you and I
wonder if that ever wounds my imagination.

But let's forget about it again;
just forget the world.