The last time I got to see you,
And the last time I got to hold you, dear,
Neither of us could have predicted
The sour mess the future held in store.

Burnt up like life cut short.
Only a feeble, sick exhaustion left
After that inebriated interplay on the phone.
Though I had left, now I was gone.

The fault is mine,
And the love is gone,
But please remember me
From the times we held near.