The Opposite of December...

Table Talk
produced by Skott Phree Written by Iron Lung

No cause for alarm I saw you shatter the glass; your pain was too hard.
No need for you to mention how your self-inflicted pain reflects upon my patience.

I inhale mist eye candy in a second it took to split Adam from evening’s “just checking” phone call. I hope I’m not interrupting, but secretly I’m wishing I’m the only thing you’re bumping at the moment. Filling up your disc changer, leaving no space for involuntary movements trading nods with the bass, break neck head banger. As if my owns sounds could really fill your place, but stop for a minute and continue on a level more secure and well suited for what I’m trying to say. (I just want to talk for a minute) not dabble in the obvious excuse for the reason that I can’t forget your face. Is there any other way? I guess it isn’t that unusual, this late in the game I’m still so mercurial. I wish I could change at least for your benefit. Maybe then we wouldn’t struggle, maybe then we’d get it.

(This is table talk) No cause for alarm I saw you shatter the glass; your pain was too hard. (This is table talk) No need for you to mention how your self-inflicted pain reflects upon my patience.
(This is table talk) Your one step process neatly back peddles when faced with past objects.
(This is table talk) You’re your own worst mention ‘cause no one hates you more then your very own reflection

Words smiled slowly as our souls kissed connect the dots of our thoughts with a punch and a sip of ill fated coffee, table talk conversations, acting on behalf of my ill matched patience. Your eyes spoke a thousands flirts at a million ticks per second asking for the right combination for acceptance. A little off-putting; dry humor is a must and she must have hobbies to help fortify her love. Things went cool ‘til your hand touched my thigh as if you were to skip the scene when the hero kissed the sky. That’s the purpose, the whole reason for reversal and the counter fortune offer was the catastrophic carpool lane version of the truth viewed through Hollywood eyes; skewed plot twist, now read between the lines. (I was like bitch please!) I know better then to let you try and sweet and low your way right into my bedroom

(This is table talk) No cause for alarm I saw you shatter the glass; your pain was too hard. (This is table talk) No need for you to mention how your self-inflicted pain reflects upon my patience.
(This is table talk) Your one step process neatly back peddles when faced with past objects.
(This is table talk) You’re your own worst mention ‘cause no one hates you more then your very own reflection

Now if we could only teach clocks to run in reverse I would have a better chance to find the right words. We’d be better off and not so awkwardly positioned with a knife at each other’s throat ready to slit. I stand before you now, no mask, no guards. No need to flex ability, no need for false security. Maybe once we’re stripped down to bare elements we can ready the foundation necessary for a “You & Me”. I used to rush into decisions, jump to a conclusion; negotiate us backwards just to agitate delusions so you’d get tired and lead us slow into temptation. So you can blame yourself, I got no time for wasting. Kissing on my ego hoping that I learned a lesson but there was no resolution. You had no hesitation to show bedroom eyes pillow top constellations leading back to comfortable table talk conversations.

(This is table talk) No cause for alarm I saw you shatter the glass; your pain was too hard. (This is table talk) No need for you to mention how your self-inflicted pain reflects upon my patience.
(This is table talk) Your one step process neatly back peddles when faced with past objects.
(This is table talk) You’re your own worst mention ‘cause no one hates you more then your very own reflection