I counted the days for a starter,
I cross them out with a red marker.
I stand beside a lamp post,
Waiting for you is what I do most.
Happy faces for the red traces?
Woes that make chases?
Running water from the eyes,
It’s not even a good supply.
I’ll put everything in a vault,
But it wouldn’t be my fault.
I expect you to run away.
Now, I’m going back to the first day.