Regina Spektor

Walking home from work
Stop at the supermarket, condemement aisle
A jar of pickles catches the eye
Make eye contact with a solitary pickle
Bought the jar took it home
Made it up the stairs
Made it through the doorway, waded through the floor
tried to head in the general direction of the bathroom door
The truest room in the whole damn house
Singin' love is the answer to a question
That I have forgotten
But I know I've been asked
And the answer has got to be love love love
Now Feeding time with TV
Then sleeping time, not sleepy
So reading time with pickle
But were the bed side lamp had been
Is now a milignant soft soft green
Has it always been this way?