How many faces have you seen in the fire?
How many bodies stacked on the pyre?
And yet you have the audacity
To walk from the naked truth?
How many days does it take,
To reach the hump,
The Pinnacle of your life’s graph?
You thought you’re drawing the curve?
Oh baby, you’re so wrong sometimes.
Not innocent, not funny
Just hopelessly
delusionary.
Just like me,
Trying to carve a masterpiece
Without knowing when it ends.
Knowing that when it would,
The graph arithmetically bends.
What is hope, my love
Let’s live it up?
Cause we are burning anyway.
Or let’s rejoice
for we have an undeserving today,
I stay clapping,
Face riding up,
I am on a train.
Is it my only bane?
Or am I already fathoms down,
Clapping like a moron,
Unaware, drunk and drown.
Whistling the songs of hope I wrote yesterday.
Is it you,
Or is it this lonely town?
Or is it only me?
Thinking of an imaginary you.
Living a happily ever after In my head,
Hope is so addictive.
Let me snort on the memories again,
Get a little high on you,
Not would be’s, not should be’s
Let’s take out an evening a week,
Going back to you,
Just you and me,
Without you. With you.
Let’s dance in the warmth of this pyre
Till it’s cold in my head,
Or till you fade away,
Or run away scared,
Watching me celebrate your absence,
Hugging that tattered gown,
The one you left to make the pyre,
And here am I instead,
Holding the gown,
Hating this town,
Sporting the evening frown,
Dancing in that grass crown,
Burning like a fucking clown.