..And now I'm broke down on Memory Lane.
Written verses and entries are all that remain.
Burn the photos to keep warm by the ascendentory flame.
Along with memories of a false home not so long ago,
I'll drink deep as I decide to let go.
I'll drink to the ghosts as I erase their names.
After hearts die and pages grow old,
the glances and exchanges have all become cold,
and as the lights fade away,
you know they will never come again.
Like evenings long past, when I held onto her,
through a slit throat the love notes shall be burned,
and in final breaths all footsteps sound the same.
Forever shall we perambulate alone,
through an endless parade of shallow hosts.
Reasons for digging our own graves are unknown,
but we'll spend our nights drinking with the ghosts.
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