When, all the waste
Of many years,
Is screamed, into your face.
When, trying to heal,
Such tender fears,
And with them,
Love, replace.
But this one, here,
Cries too much tears,
I see it, on her face.
It's time to go,
Before we die,
Before we go,
It's time to die.
But she's not here,
So, "we" decide,
She thinks it's time,
We said "goodbye"
And I don't think,
There's another thing.
She's just been here,
Just acting weird.
But something,
I've been doing, here's,
been driving her, quite mental.
I know, I'm here,
Just sitting here,
Feeling all sentimental.
But after we'll,
have sold the house,
It'll all be incidental.
And broken dreams,
We had for life,
Were just, an instrumental.
[Kenny G sax, here]
