I don't want to be the prodigal son
I don't want to be the un-loveable one
It's hard to know what I  have become

I sit on my back patio and let
Smoke roll like words off my lips
The only thing I'll have of you is
The sound of your voice and the sway of your hips

This is catharsis through slow burn
This is me coming coming to grips on my own terms
I'll just forgot what I've learned
Maybe nothing's eternal,  everything's just food food for the worms.