I think of myself as being deep,
But that’s just not the case.
I think of myself as being picky
But shallow’s a better place.

Pure fear of vulnerability
Does not a mysterious man make.
Self delusion is more like it,
That inner empty lake.

Alone each night I sit and sip
In mirrors, lips red stained.
The congregants would not approve
Of two more bottles drained.

Along someday will come the one
Complex and deep within?
Just who do I think I’m kidding,
All I care is that she’s thin.