I am a frustrated musician. In my lifetime I've composed about two songs. I've forgotten the first one, but I remember vividly the second. Well almost.

The only thing I can remember now is the chorus. It went something like this:

And I don't know how you're doing this to me
That somehow, that someone
Has been waking me up everynight
Has been making me sleep all day
And I don't know how this is all going to be
But I think I just might love you for that

The title of the song is A Letter to Calla. Calla was a type of lily. And well, the person I wrote it for has the spanish name for lily. She can sing really well herself. And she has the most aromatic, handsome-smelling breath after a cigarette smoke, unlike others who smell like ash with but a puff.

Last I heard, she's in Boston with her kid and her dad.