it's like a sick experiment -
"let's see what happens when a boy's stripped bare
of everything he has to call his own
and he's left to lie in an empty room
waiting for his flight at noon
with nothing but a clock and a telephone

and he knows full well that the girl he loves
is six streets over and four streets up
and she's naked and she's biting her lip
and let's make him forget about his real friends
and let's veil the obvious consequence
of fucking up and failing out of school"

and eventually i grab the phone
use my calling card and dial home
because i don't even have anything to clutch
i call my dad and tell him i'll
see him tomorrow if all goes well
and he tells me that my presence means so much

and somewhere in the atmosphere
the growing storm has lent an ear
and unbeknownst to me it starts to snow
and by noon tomorrow it'll be
pure white as far as you can see -
a canvas for me and my telephone