I’ve got a copy of the Times,
A cup of shit brewed coffee.
A laptop open to a blank page,
And smart water since I never eat from the cafe.
Pandora’s playing in the background,
All about being alone in a crowded room.
Discounted book that I don’t need,
From the Borders that’s closing down the street.
My phone's on vibrate,
Just got a text from Iceland.
The bill's gonna piss off my parents,
But the kid was so nice that I couldn’t help myself.
Class in an hour,
My homework’s not done,
But I’ll blame it on the jet lag,
Even though I’ve got none.
Iceland felt nice,
Like a taste of adulthood with an added measure of fun.
Now I don’t know what to do since I’m back in the states,
New York city’s so bright, but it’s not home.
At least not at this moment, at least not for me.
Freedom’s a plane ticket, some friends and a good book.
Keeping a journal so that in ten years I can look back,
And read what we thought.
Harsh at times, yeah I guess,
But for me it was the best.
Ten days in Reykjavik, that we waited months for,
Now it has passed and we don’t know what’s in store.
Nothing is planed but the Times and a coffee,
Class at four thirty with a a hint of the city.
