One for the party, baby, I’m on the road, rolling in a toaster oven pastry loving every second making count the things I’ve had to face without ever knowing nothing from a something in your voice. It’s your choice that I’m not there, it’s my choice that I’m here. I know the thread of conversation never stops until it starts again. I know we are more than less than friends, and if I have to wait until I see you at the end, well, it’s just your loss of time. You’re doing better, I’m doing fine. It looks like you’ll just have to come and get me to get us off our minds.