If the walls had eyes, they could tell the story of our lives. Tell the tales of desperation and of our damnation. These walls have seen us at our best and at our worst. They could tell us about the tests and could pay homage to our thirst. These walls have seen us grow. These walls have seen us fall. When the alcohol is dried up and our lives have moved on these walls will remain. To tell the stories of our campaign to another reign.

Sticks and stones may break our bones, but its what we dont say that hurts the worst. Its cheap tricks played in the dark that inflicts our hearts, and the shallow white lies to cover the stagnate lives. We smile through our frowns. We speak in double tongues to leave us young. Each i love you we turn complex. Living from each to the next. Wondering if it is our last. Our heads fear that the other has join another bed. Its not over yet, but we forget to let go of regret.
These are the things that blacken our hearts. The things that ruin sweethearts.