You know my story.

I've been telling it to anyone I could find.

If I would lose you, I'd lose my mind,

over and over agian until next time.



Lights out to expectations.

Goodbye to bad intentions.

There's nothing wrong with letting go.



I know all about you.

Give me a pen and I'll write you a book of how we both fucked up,

walked away, got back just in time to make up for the new years.



I send you stationary.

It wasn't ordinary.

You got it and told me that everything would be O.K.

Next morning came conclusion:

It's too late to start all over.

(Sorry about the past)