The lights are out and I’m home alone; got no plans tonight. No idea what day of the week it is but I know that it’s night. Don’t ask me about the time, I don’t care if the clock still chimes. What’s on the menu for dinner?
“Your infamies” cries out a voice.
They’re home; usually a bit early but I guess they had plans too. I turn the music on and move myself along. They stand in the corner gawking, I dance to the tunes and sing whatever comes to me.
“You’re late.” I point the finger and grin; There’s wine on the table, suit yourself, serve yourself some gin.
I’m home alone tonight. I got no plans.
I’m dancing with my monsters.
I’m home alone.
Is it really night?