Guess I’ll never know what I meant to you
This year’s been lonely but at least it’s through
I’ll write a letter to my former self
Dear sad ghost, why’d you put your heart on the shelf?
I got this far past my captivity only to disappear
Capturing the moments with a scratched mirror
Impropriety plucks my nerves like piano strings
But the song turns out to be of drunken kerosene
I didn’t need another affliction to weigh my abyss
Missing out in stilted fabrications and vixen trysts
The apparition pilfers me on a diamond glass heist
Mine vicarious propinquity was nothing but ire lies.