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.