I Don't Share Milk, Especially in Home Depot

I was rocking Clare
when the phone rang,
it was Easter,
and I fucking hate Florida.

But the laundry was done
and so was I,
but after faking it for thirty-five minutes,
a distraction was destiny.

I cleaned my clock
and flushed memories
down the toilet,
then went and got us a pizza.

She had moved on,
probably long ago,
when I was inside her
but like every other gal she failed to tell me.

So the pizza grew cold
and the love grew old,
but I stayed out of spite
and nervous nights.

Ghosts keep calling your name,
and I am still wishing
while fucking Claire,
oh my love, what do I do?