Friends change like the seasons.

They only give you reasons,

to hate their ass for leaving.

It's hard to overcome the grieving.

When they were here you that that feeling,

but now you are clutching straws, stealing

fake friends to prolong the pain not healing.

Your eyes witness them and our mind is pealing and

bit by bit more hurt starts kneeling.

You write songs that we sing about wheezing.

Out of breath and going insane, heeling,

to the horror of your actions, being.

Merely believing and seizing the day, your raving.

You meet new friends that you begin seeing and

thirty years down the line, old is dead but

the new is still