I Can't Dance

I gotta stop talking about myself so much. It really isn't me to do that. So I'm going to tell a story that isn't about me.

A man is walking downtown not far from his house. He's in sort of a mood. Let's say he's in a mood to make something happen. He sees a girl as he's walking. It's been years since he's seen her, and he actually used to date her.

As they start talking, filling in the gaps of the years gone by, they start to wonder aloud what might have been. Of course, that was years ago, and now she has a child of her own. The two go their separate ways, and the man continues walking. He decides to write about it. So he finds a rock to sit on and writes about what just happened. This is what he writes:

Well I see ya holdin hands with your lover. And you're makin plans with each other. It fits real good on ya. Well don't worry, I didn't come to make things strange. Theres a reason why things change. She sees right through my thin disguise...

mw

'Friends... check. Money... check. Well slept...'