forbidden love

And as the summers ending
the cold air will rush your hard heart away.
You were so condescending,
and this is all that's left
scraping paper to document.
I've packed a change of clothes and it's time to move on.

And as they all grow older the truth will be understood,
cause we never turn out the way we thought we would.

Photographs of the best time you had,
windows smugded by the speed.
Leaving home with our bags from Iron street
as morning turned into California.

You keep twisting the truth that keeps me thrown askew.

Synapse to Synapse: the possibility's thin...
And I kept a distance: the complications cloud
the postcards and blips through fiberoptics...


Update: (2 of 4)