Early graves, paved by the lost and misguided
To whom do I owe the pleasure to, for being short sighted?
Your presence does not shake me like it used to,
Not since you've left my skin like a ******, faded tattoo.
Can I get by if my thoughts remain one-sided?
Or will I get by if I become more open-minded?

New gold Casio watch,
Loosely hangs from my wrist.
It hits the bottle harder than I do,
Against my best wish.

Swish of whisky down my throat.
I've never been one to boast,
About newly bought possesions.
But this watch,
This gold Casio watch is the exception.

Summon to mind when we were teens,
The nights we spend climbing to deserted roof tops,
The nights we spent exploring quaint coffee shops.
Just two teens, in our torn black jeans.

We would exchange thoughts of the future
And tales of self-inflicted torture.
One year age difference never meant anything to me.
That night, I told you i did not want to live past twenty-three.

Now you're twenty-two,
The thought of one year age difference
Makes a second and final appearance.