Then it was pure
If only a bit misdirected.
Tonight as we try to rekindle ashes
That is the path I'd rather have taken.

Far back we split on crossroads.
Still drawing imaginary bridges
Invoking ghosts from the dim past
When my choices come to question me.

My flirting with philosophy a farce
A false conviction that nothing matters
Specially all that I callously lost
And all those you carefully took.

All our lives we float in a whiskey glass
Starting with the strength to topple empires
As we slowly melt and dilute into a tepid mess
For the morning to come and guiltily clean.