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Sorting through this mess I happen on your smile |
|
gleaming through a photograph buried for some while. |
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I'm taken by the way the swagger captured there |
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has vanished in the haze of time. |
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And by a foolish whim I'm stricken with desire |
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to phone you up and tell you of my find. |
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But as I stretch my hand |
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I'm reminded of the shape I'm in |
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from all the things you've left behind. |
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Man, I hate your friends |
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They really bring me down |
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And I can tell your not yourself whenever they're |
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around. |
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So ditch this motley crew for all the world of me |
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And leave these sorry few behind |
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I hope that by some master plan you're in the same |
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boat that I am |
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Waiting at a crossing path to seal away your life. |
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To lock inside a sacred bond so tight |
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And like this photograph the scattered thoughts of you |
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are frozen in the amber of my mind. |
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And boxes on the shelf of documents reminding me you |
|
left an empty shell behind. |
