You were dreaming of Sunday afternoons,
no mail; all news,
Snoring on the porch,
you gave me your fears,
You gave me your tears,
you gave me everything to see,
And you knew all the years.

I’ve felt like this before,
what do you call it when you
Can no longer remember?
what do you call it when
the sights and sounds
you’ve gathered from around
no longer play back
Your sweet Melody of Memory?

You know, I’ve thought this, too
I’ve thought of your casual drinking,
the slow drag from your cigar;
Man, you suck me dry, then
Inject me with vitriol
Your tired lies are all I have left
sweet to me and
I just can’t
leave you alone

You’re breaking me,
breaking my quiet tries
Recycling me…so
That’s what I am,
I’m your empty bottles
Can you hear me? I’m telling you to
Trash your own
Precious life

My denial is the cream of your coffee;
Yeah, I can feel you lapping up my
desperation
my hesitation
my every sensation
trickling into You

“I dream not of salvation,
I try and hide your vicious ways;
You’re my only resolution
And I appreciate your stolen days.”