The Unmade Bed

I've chosen to remember you exactly as you are
If looks could be pickled and stored in a jar
1997 trapped inside a conversation
That party was so loud I felt like an abbreviation of myself
Finally got around to vacating the nest
But my knowledge of survival was pedestrian at best
Now I'm holding down a job penning poems by the kilo
Our guest is dressed by hand-me-down, hair designed by pillow
Tie shoes in bows
Walk tall in those
Don't start counting your pennies; the night is but a pup
There's things happening above you must remember to look up
And you will marvel at how it’s so easy to forget
A moon that hangs so bright you could've lit your cigarette
The light that it throws
Smash through windows
We're singing words the meaning's long forgotten
Corroded over time
The air's so thick you'd swear you're breathing cotton
You've fallen down a mine
Assuming your own nom de plume
Invite someone back to your room
Every person and their spouse
Lay entwined throughout the house
While meanwhile on another couch
I've the pleasure of finding out the difference between north and south
With his mechanical moving mouth he said “These are my principles, if you don't like them I’ve got others.
This is my opinion, if you don't agree I've got big brothers”