I found you amongst the broken pages and elegant script,
Writhing in your splendid stories
That were that were less than fiction,
And no one but us could ever guess.
We had been at the top
On every star and every palace
There was not a tongue that our names didn't reach
But we lived so, so fast
We were never going to last.
Constantly changing, but ever out selves,
We were the flames to paint the sky red
And the paint to burn it black.
We were the resistance that everyone admired.
No, the cynics didn't matter
Because the affection had us covered
We were living at our best
When the moon was in shine.
I grew used to your varying shades of eloquence
And you grew expectant of me
When the liquor didn't do its job
It was time to leave.
And the graying pictures on the wall
That you had painted only served
As a memory, something to remind me
Like the palaces that had gone down,
We were never meant to last.