Mirage

Clean pics, like in a mirror, like if they were in my livin' room, silver light;
lookin' for someone I met someone else, but dind't give out my phone number, kept looking through that window for what seemed to be a long while: we talked enough through that shared view;
sad eyes, lusty mouths.

Am I really sick of guitars?
I'm definitely sick of growin' older.

Can't really have my breakfast this morning, "too busy stayin' alive..."