These days I ain't nothing but an old life

representation of the past, tense. 

we've all grown apart and into ourselves and maybe one day the chain will be strength but for now we're all just living. 

I've fortified my gates whilst you exploded outwards, least that's what the Owl says but he's only got eyes for image. I've become a long coat wearer, pulling it round my shoulders for that alleyway stepping permanent now

Flicking through virtual polaroids comparing your present with the past that lives & breathes forever in my veins, cut off like like cauterised i've moulded memories into worlds that I carry on my shoulders.

But i'm a ring wearer, shuffling cards to trick some smiling face into fucking up so I can fuck the corpse. I ain't ambivalent, just instead i'm always bitter. 

Because i've got something to prove to every dawn that sheds its skin on the day

I've got knives to stick in stomachs of the permanently displayed

I've got crowds to kill with silence that echoes in moments like this.

Hopeless romanticist can't handle shit like fuck I'm a mess at this.

Because of footsteps falling over into graves

Because of lives lost to semblance trembling always just a little too late

Because of broken fingers scratching at the treasure of a face, perpetual digger shits it at the thought of ever being misplaced.

So i'll stand on street corners flicking ash from fingers burning bridges

An illustrious river carpet death

A shoebox bomb from your favourite fresh airmax crepes

I'm nothing but a snake who's lost is legs running from the fires of constant creeping death. 

I see now that you've changed, I hope I have too. 

I hope the sun grows new roots and plants new shoots because i'm struggling to escape addiction to the memories of you and I need to know you're not the same person lest I folly follow you forever 'til those days disintegrate like old film, stop turning my insides black & blue.

Just tell me you're not the same, tell me you've changed your name to rid yourself of it.

Tell me you choked the life fingers gripping round the very thought of it

tell me you gutted us alive and burned the bodies in a ditch

just tell me my life does not match the vision under those eyelids. 

Because any attempt at imagining our hearts beat in the same rhythm means I could sync with you, but every mile walked in those shoes would mean only progress in the tightening of a noose

Tell me you'd seen me die in a thousand different ways

Burning up too close to the sun to plummet slovenly south of heaven, resplendent in decay.

Just tell me you thought I was dead.