Glove slaps and hand claps,
you turn your face from me
though in my mind your picture doesn't change;
the dates stay the same
until you come back around

pink frost and rings lost,
you've started to forget my name
but it'll come to you again
like a word you've never heard,
echoing in your mind


and though I don't say so often,
it's not your fault at all;
and, while my dreams may think different,
I don't miss you anymore.


Earthquakes and dull aches;
bruises that won't heal
I'm on the outside of things but I've found away in:
it's been tested but found insecure;
haven't we all?

January's cold but that Easter was bold,
though it's hard to remember how young we were then;
cavorting and crying in houses now comdemned,
though they'll always stand in my head

and though I don't say so often,
it's not your fault at all
and, while my dreams think different,
I don't miss you any more


Red rain and forgotten pain,
people move on...
and someday I'll be one

Whether in success or failure, sooner or later time must lead to disillusionment...