I was a woman on the war path
Chanting, beating my chest, painting my face
I was new at life and bleeding that youthful aura
But now I’ve gone dry, thirsty for what I let go.
I watch him stand over your body,
And painfully remove all I had adorned you with.
I had used you as a sanctuary for all my dreams.
You had seen the best and worst of me
But now you see me worst of all, retired.

I no longer venture into the night and roll into the morning
I don’t climb the walls, or shout to the seasons
I don’t cry with all-consuming  passion
I don’t love with reckless infatuation
I don’t hate myself when I’m high on angst
I even don’t love myself when I’m high on vanity
I was the epitome of extremes and starved for thrills
The runaway, the rolling stone, the troublemaker
The flirt, the fighter, the drinker and smoker.

I’m grateful you’re too fogged to notice me
Because I know you wouldn’t believe
The shrewd and quiet ghost I’ve grown up to be.