(Buck/Mills/Stipe)
If we're talking about love
Then I have to tell you
Dear readers, I'm not sure where I'm headed
I've gotten lost before
I've woke up stone drunk
Face down in the floor
Late afternoon, the house is hot
I started, I jumped up
Everyone hates a bore
Everybody hates a drunk
This may be a lit invention
Professors muddled in their intent
To try to rope in followers
To float their malcontent
As for this reader,
I'm already spent
Late afternoon, the house is hot
I started, I jumped up
Everyone hates a sad professor
I hate where I wound up
Dear readers, my apologies
I'm drifting in and out of sleep
Long silence presents the tragedies
Of love. Note the age. Get afraid
The surface hazy with attendant thoughts
A lazy eye metaphor on the rocks
Late afternoon, the house is hot
I started, I jumped up
Everyone hates a bore
Everybody hates a drunk
Everyone hates a sad professor
I hate where I wound up
I hate where I wound up
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