You're like an inner-city passerby,
a cold shoulder to my warm welcoming heart now covered in black,
my lungs filled with smoke every time you walked out.
For when we lie in the grass there's no need for a blanket, we have each other.
When we stare at the sky we don't mind that the moon's not full.

But you've cried so much in your memory of me I must flicker like a film projector.
Now the reel has ended and the celluloid snakes around the floor giving new home to the dust and the critters.
It weaves around like playground slides and reminds me of when I didn't have to worry about the pain that comes with love and the inevitable love that grows out of sorrow. It's like a flower in its shattered pottery.

I can only imagine the solace my laughs and smiles created as I bathed in dirt and wood chips,
as I felt the wind in my growing hair as I went down the slides and on the swings with a beat in my heart and music on my lips.

I still sing those songs to this day, songs of thanks and songs of praise
I just don't sing them to remember I sing them to forget (if only I could)

Because the memories of you make the sad times more sad and the happy times more meaningless, and whenever we speak we’re just song with no chorus,
Verses that play in busy squares for deaf ears,
our bridges connect to nothing like our eyes when we look at each other.

You wanted a sacrifice you knew I couldn't give,
you wanted to mold me into something more like you
but you're not the solution you are only the instigator. That flame was struck and that's when the smoke filled my lungs and emptied this room we once shared.

This place where we sang songs together, songs of thanks and songs of praise,
now you sing them to remember.

You want to know there were good times,
I'd rather not remember there were times at all (and why would I?)
But you've cried so much your memory of me must look like a water drop seen through a cracked lens.
A few weeks from now I'll just be a memory of a dream and fade away.
The pain in my chest will rest and I'll finally have my peace.

Every drum line echoes, but they all come to close.

And I will not be scared because even the rocking chairs creek when nobody's there, and that's where I'll be singing songs of thanks and songs of praise that I will sing every day.

I pray that we think and we learn the way I hope, because we think we learn even when we don't, Oh Lord please help me to remember,
'cause I never want to forget.

Those crescent moons and tearless blue eyes as long as I live.
Just as long as I live for you, and nobody else.