Sorting through this mess I happen on your smile

 gleaming through a photograph buried for some while.

 I'm taken by the way the swagger captured there

 has vanished in the haze of time.

 And by a foolish whim I'm stricken with desire

 to phone you up and tell you of my find.

 But as I stretch my hand

 I'm reminded of the shape I'm in

 from all the things you've left behind.

 Man, I hate your friends

 They really bring me down

 And I can tell your not yourself whenever they're

 around.

 So ditch this motley crew for all the world of me

 And leave these sorry few behind

 I hope that by some master plan you're in the same

 boat that I am

 Waiting at a crossing path to seal away your life.

 To lock inside a sacred bond so tight

 And like this photograph the scattered thoughts of you

 are frozen in the amber of my mind.

 And boxes on the shelf of documents reminding me you

 left an empty shell behind.