You teach math. 

You show up every morning, every day

On time -- punctuality is important when you deal with numbers.

Your suits are pressed, your ties match your pants

Match your shirts math your shoes match your socks. 

Your familiar stubble smells like Old Spice, 

The same dullly abrading hair, the same length 

In cycles -- predictable like the moon. 

It's important to me, to have a man like you

There ever morning, doing his damn job.

Present, at least. 

Friendly, at least.

You, who keeps your door open during lunch. 

I go home early to an empty house.

Nothing is on time. 

Nothing is predictable.

Nothing does it's job.

Nothing matches. 

Until tomorrow.