He kept a giant locked metal box in his front yard. He painted it bright red. We’ve all got something to hide, he’d tell anyone who’d listen

The bar had the air of a morgue and the singer tried her best to rouse some passion from the remaining drunks in the room. But she couldn’t.

The doctor walks to the waiting room and she’s still there. He sighs and says, You should get some rest, and she says, He’s not coming back.

He says, Love is love; you can’t control it. He says, My love for you is undiminished. He says, I was tanked. But none of the excuses work.

She watches him as he rollerskates. She knows he doesn’t want complications but she writes a song about him anyway. And complications ensue.

He went clubbing and shimmied up to a beautiful something. But he didn’t know if it was a he or a she. And after a few hours he didn’t care.