What do I think we are
Did I expect to see stars
Spining around both our heads
Forgetting the path that I fled
It all sounds so silly to me
Going back to such lived misery
How can I entertain my delight
At the thought of being under your spotlight
It all felt so decided, quite final
Like our last song on a vinyl
An album played ad nauseam
Swimming circles in stagnum
But a tale as old as time
The whimsy to rewind
In my attempt to create closure
I found the itch to flip our record over.