Well your passion is gone like an old house that settles
Slip into that coffin you call a 5 star hotel
And keep scraping that story you're still too scared to tell
Could it really be that bad?
Your regret stood gaurd for a wasted life
Kept possibilities at bay
Your conscience squeaked under those humming knives and convinced you not to stay
Relief hoists its salute as it's walking away
So won't you sing those songs you used to sing?
So won't you sing those songs you used to sing?
They harbor all those vacant memories about the way life was before.
So won't you sing those songs you used to sing?
So won't you sing those those songs you used to sing
Of a summer dripping in camraderie
So I won't miss you anymore
So I won't miss this anymore
I guess thats all there is to adore
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem