I am but a crook, seeking solace from a pure source,
which I can only (hope to) taint
with the blood of the wealthy, of course.

Remembering summer is you weeping on my doorstep as another victim was claimed.

I shouldn't keep thinking about you like this.
Everyone is happy (ha), you and I moved on.
The ocean is gone, we let go of the rope.
I love her.
So why are you on my mind?

I'm not going to leave her, I doubt you even feel the same nowadays,
but I can't fight the urge to ask,
"Do you want me?"