The yellowed page of the books and books I'd forgotten that I had

These paperbacks they know their age they smell of weight and time that's resting warm

The opened box beside the endless box parade that haunts my house

Is fit to split with photographs that tell the wanderlust of years smashed on to years

When all this actual life played out

Where the hell on Earth was I?

I rack my brains but it won't come

Through water damaged bloodshot eyes

The fleeting triumphs, brazen lies

All seem to mingle into one

I read your name under words in your elegant hand you probably don't mean now

I fold the letter and think of a million and one things that I could have done different

When all this actual life played out

Where the hell on Earth was I?

I rack my brains but it won't come

Through water damaged bloodshot eyes

The fleeting triumphs, brazen lies

All seem to mingle into one

One gigantic fairy tale

Of friends I haven't seen in years

Drinking 'til the daylight hurts

You seem friendly who are you?

That's a lot of wine that we got through

We've made playtime look like work

Please just take these photos from my hands.