GET BACK

When you come home

there's gonna be explosions.

I'll be bouncing off walls

pop pop POPping every which way

as you wait for me to calm down

to get it together

to gain control.

Fuck it.

I've been out of control

all the days you were gone.

It's time for YOU to control me.

When you come home

I may talk a mile a minute.

Excited, rambly

idiotic talk.

My phrases my range

from the absurd to the sublime

though, likely, they'll only be the former.

I'll be struggling to be sensible

attempting to be urbane

but you know better than me

how THAT'LL turn out.

When you get home

it'll be an apocalypse of loneliness

a death rattle to isolation

the last gasp for my desolation.

It'll be exclusive

it'll be exotic

it'll be an erotic time.

When you get home

I bet we'll be touching.

I expect I'll be touching

straying

moving every which way I can.

There'll be moments when I'll stop cold, though

stunned senseless astonished

by the fact that you've arrived

you've returned

you've come back

when you get home.

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