i look at the moon, i know you see it too
it feels like we’re standing close, breathing the same air
they warned me about people like you
the ones with shades, different truths
i light my candle, look over and remember your handles
i laugh, i smile, become saddened and filled with remorse
but because i had no mind of my own — what’s mine was yours
and it was a tour that had ended in gore
i don’t hate you, i hate what you did to me
can’t believe how you could leave with such ease
the way you live without keys and from tree to tree
maybe i’m jealous that you’re so careless
you live without means and i live in dreams
a machine of many jeans while i live in a variety of scenes
not saying you’re a whore or that you love opening and closing the door
but i ask for more and i love a war while you play in nothing more
the score, it plays — a melancholy feel for yesterday
you and i, the day we played in memories of what used to be
but i’m not mad, i’m not sad — the word i might use is glad
that i did and i had the experience to feel something so grand
while you lie and stroke your hand on something that has no plan
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