The Crying Waitress

Images sometimes fill my head with reveries so vivid that they feel like memories
In them most people look the same but they're much nicer to me and they don't treat me like I'm a fucking slave
One day she'll stop bending over...
She believes in deeper emotions, she's hardly going through the motions, she wants her tale to be more than cautionary
(I love myself but I will never allow to give in to destruction, to believe in illusions)
Dreaming of being someone else is not an option for me, my life's the way it should be
But if I had to make a choice between my daily routine and a better one I wouldn't hesitate
She's so loving yet she feels so numb, she relies on many rules of thumb, all attempts to help won't be necessary
Take me back to times when life was fun, didn't have to feel a thing for anyone
I was glad just to be on my own, now I'm spending hours talking on the phone
She set the blaze and walked away. Looked back with no regrets
She's not a saint, she's just a waitress. Somehow they'll never forget her name