glory to the winds, golden smile full of sin,
running miles in the wild, like a child made of tin
left, i’m broken hearted,
the ship has just departed,
but this time it’s not windy,
the heavens must be busy,
rowing to the end of this world that i invented,
pretended you were into me, alas i see the ending,
you found somebody else, i hope you know i think that’s splendid,
i wrote an album for you but you’ve never even read it,
although i never showed you, that’s the one thing i’m regretting,
i’m betting you’re so happy, ‘cause before this you were melting,
this is what you needed, please enjoy your antidote,
got a poem of this day i wrote about a year ago,
as i said before, i’ll say it now,
“apart we’ll have to grow.”