I don't know this bed again.
Satin draped across my vulnerable body, feeling like cold cloth on my caged heart.
I've woke up hungover again.
Another morning in the wrong bed, popping aspirin like the shots I didn't want the night before.
Leaving a note as a thank you for the money cause that's my food for the weekend.
Sipping orange juice is confusing my taste buds, they don't know anything more than the champagne they buy for me.
Here I go again.
Just another night on another strangers lap.
I don't pay attention anymore to anything other then their paycheck.
No matter how many times I've counted dollar bills, I still can't count how many times I've redrawn my face on.
It's not for myself anymore but for my job.
Waiting for the night to end just to end up lonely all over again.
