I think of the past.

I think of the sensitivity.

The moment that the aclcohol touched our lips...

I think of promises.

 

But who did you give the painting to?

I hope your mother never finds out that it was a gift for her.

This is what narcissists do;

And you will always be one.

 

Your love was like autumn,

 

A love that is gone and ushers the dead leaves that soon turn into a frost bite,

so uncureable in the night, such angony at touch.

I want you to come back in this green Volkswagen, I want you to brawl the demons that await you tonight.

In spite of our song playing once more, you as much as I, have chosen enslavement of our souls.

 

It is necessary that you let me go.

It is necessary that I let you go.

It is necessary that smypathy give us a promise of empathy.

 

I am lost because I am broken.

I am broken because I am controlled between your heaven and my hell.

I am broken now that I am control of the in between feelings.

I know we cannot talk;

But I lie, since the crystals know the truth now.

 

Yet, we drive the same roads,

We will go to the absentee,

For this city girl is ready to leave.