I walk slowly to the store, you don't live here anymore
You used to live round the corner (cigarettes and alcohol)
Last week I turned twenty-four, you don't call me anymore
We used to speak every morning I was sleeping on the floor
I still get the mail for you, I leave it at the door
Every letter seems a warning, pay your rego by the fourth
Monday morning laundry or coffee on the garden wall
You're good 'cause you're never boring, you should probably call me more
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