it's like a sick experiment -    "let's see what happens when a boy's stripped bare   of everything he has to call his own   and he's left to lie in an empty room   waiting for his flight at noon   with nothing but a clock and a telephone      and he knows full well that the girl he loves   is six streets over and four streets up   and she's naked and she's biting her lip   and let's make him forget about his real friends   and let's veil the obvious consequence   of fucking up and failing out of school"      and eventually i grab the phone   use my calling card and dial home   because i don't even have anything to clutch   i call my dad and tell him i'll   see him tomorrow if all goes well   and he tells me that my presence means so much      and somewhere in the atmosphere   the growing storm has lent an ear   and unbeknownst to me it starts to snow   and by noon tomorrow it'll be   pure white as far as you can see -    a canvas for me and my telephone