Last time I had a dream, it was with you.
Last time I flew, it was with you.
And I know you felt that way too.
Called and said you don’t dream of joy no more,
Don’t know your nowadays, though.
If she gave you life and new hopes—
That’s the gunshot echoing, shattering me through.
The bitter dark, the vengeful lips,
Most of my fury comes from this—
Having to leave my last peaceful sleep.
But if it's really worth trying, then there,
Please, give me maybe some tips,
So my wicked thoughts and angry vows
Can finally let you be"
This is a personal piece from my soul which showcases the bitterness of getting left behind.