We have nothing to agree about,
  there is no common ground

You clinging hard to all excuse
  and me to reasons found

Thirty-five years and nothing’s changed,
   as you relive the past

Our blood runs thin, our names the same,
  you feast on what I fast
  
With history gone, there’s nothing shared
  except to disagree

You hanging on to a dying past,
  me, dying to be free

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2018)