50 lies and the can I's of the next man. She looks at the floor as we pass in a long hallway. Lies become rhetorical play backs on reel to reel. Ears burning as the future is discussed in the next room with the next man. Now I'm the ex man, chasing echoes turned ego. Late night excuses excused and seasoned with the smell of foreign females. Enduring her silent interrogation. 50 lies committed to memory. I forgot she loved me... 50 lies and the can I's of the next man, my voice don't reach her. 51 lies. The next man shoes under my bed...