I'm in the way, am I in the way?

I see you singing the animals to sleep, and I know, by the way, it's over without you. 

I'm in the way, am I in the way?

When you talk can I tape you?

Someone outside is screaming FUCK OFF OH JUST FUCK OFF. I can hear everything from my room which overlooks the entrance of my halls; lovers' quarrels included. A girl, slams the door. I make up the minutiae of their nights and write it on paper that later I will make into boats and sail across the puddles that form by the library. If I honour this external heartache properly then it will never happen to me. I like you.