I desire to leave, to disppear, to slip quietly into the night
On the last bus out, to the last possible stop
Discreetly removing the trail as I go
And with it every memory I left behind
When the sun rises, so will they
And there'd be nothing left of me
No clothes, no books, no wall marks
No face, no voice, no tingle of a touch
I was there, now I am here
Burn everything old and get lost in the new
Apr 13, 2021
Apr 13, 2021 at 11:53 PM UTC
I desire to leave, to disppear, to slip quietly into the night
On the last bus out, to the last possible stop
Discreetly removing the trail as I go
And with it every memory I left behind
When the sun rises, so will they
And there'd be nothing left of me
No clothes, no books, no wall marks
No face, no voice, no tingle of a touch
I was there, now I am here
Burn everything old and get lost in the new
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