I'm wondering if the surface of our passions
is all that we've been scratchin.
We take small bites like rations
and always do it the same old fashion.
But the passion of sweaty spasms
that let us play Eve and Adam
get us by but I've fathomed
that our ******* are also our chasm.
So could that make a ****** cause fallout?
And if you were in need would you call out?
or would you hide it inside you like
the sympathy I have is all out?
I'll be honest: I never saw doubt til it hit like a bus,
but then again all that lust
usually comes with some trust
It's a must.
Somehow it's lackluster from something so wanderlust.
I dunno if confidants correlate to confidences
but the way that we've been feeling
couldn't be just coincidences.
and I'm not defenseless,
I've grown thick skin with thin pretenses.
so I wish you the very best
and I'd never wish any less,
you always got a place in my chest
but this thing is better off put to rest.
so its over, I'm going forward but behind me I won't find regret,
cause I'll still be having good times but the old ones I won't forget.

Listen here. -->  https://soundcloud.com/mcvegh/a-parting-of-ways