This is how it is,

This is what I contest in this hour,

How to deal with your obscurity,

How to take back the power.

​

One for what I saw that night,

One for how you bluffed my affection,

This flavour is a game no more,

This is my reflection.

​

Living in – without you,

Talking to a schizophrenic every other day,

Sundays bring me warm indulgence,

Mondays make me pay.

​

Once a flourished tree within this forest,

Once a burnt out oak alone,

This feeling seems oh so familiar,

I really should have known….

​

I tire of these waltzers,

I am sick from this spin,

I want to get off before I fade,

I want to go home and repent this sin.

​

2002