It's all a matter, of jealousy,
And how, I hurt you,
Because you, hurt me,
And did it, in a way,
That everyone, could see.
How falsehood, and lies,
Kills all the good,
Despite grey eyes,
Disguised as everything,
I could ever need.
What, the fuck, was I supposed to do,
With promises that could never be honoured?
Nothing but howling, on the end of the line,
Promises, that became thin with time,
Which never could, be made good,
How easy it is, to change the rhymes,
As nothing, eventually materialises,
Promises, heaped upon themselves,
A way to gaze, through a future lens,
We stand, amazed, e'en hypnotised,
By promised pussy, lives, held high,
Then, nothing seen, as nothing's real,
Stealing all, you claimed to love,
When reality, denial, and waste,
Takes away, all feeling, left.
Moving, swiftly on.
Time to find, another sun,
We've been here, now, it's time, again, to run.
Old, Grey Eyes, versions, been, now gone,
Just leaves a hole, she used to fill,
Killed, all promises. Killed.
A tool of creeping, acrid death,
A gate, through which, the self can rise,
Slowly, friendly, crack through pane,
She'll come to you, ne'er back, again,
The free and lost, again, she'll find,
Promise life and love and will,
She'll take all that she wants.
Just hope and image,
Puzzle, cracked.
Don't be deceived,
She won't be back.
You're the shell,
Hollowed out.
Back to the hell, of fear & doubt.
For one so right, for one so just,
Dimmed dark, the light,
The curse, the dust,
The self, the self, your self.
The self, is all she was.
