When you've done something for so long,
That it's part of who you are,
Like morning dumps or random loves,
Or sitting alone in bars,
Changing those things seem threatening,
Not just to yourself, but those you know,
You question the fabric of reality itself,
Stepping out of your comfort zone,
So, as you sit there, on stool or throne,
Loving or wishing you were,
Comfortable and comforting and faithful,
Just make sure you're sure,
That that's all there is,
And for all I know, you're right,
Life may not be worth risking,
Just for the possibilities of one night.
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