You know my story.

I've been telling it to anyone I could find.

If I would lose you, I'd lose my mind, 

over and over again until next time.


Lights out to expectations. 

Goodbye to bad intentions. 

There's nothing wrong with letting go.


I know all about you.

Give me a pen and I'll write you a book of how we both fucked up, 

walked away, got back just in time to make up for the new years.


I send you stationary. 

It wasn't ordinary.

You got it and told me that everything would be O.K. 

Next morning came conclusion:

It's too late to start all over.

(Sorry about the past)