These tangled webs we weave,
are intertwined in each others lives.
I'm promise I'm not trying to deceive
you, but most of the friends you make,
you're never even going to see
again. Once you take that first step
on your way across the stage to receive
your ticket to get the hell out of here.

Promises of "call me this summer so we can hang!",
written permanently in a book of memories, are broken.
By the very people you swore you hated, but
that was last week. After all, they were just jokin'.
Abused and bruised by what they said, the rumors spread,
the lies believed. You were just pokin'
fun at me? You expect ofrgiviness to be given freely,
no work ofr you because it's the end. You really need to be woken
up, open your eyes to reality. Faith isn't
repaired easily, once broken.

The end of the year, the heavy weight
of the world on my shoulders. I'm doing my best
to impress you, to complete this part of fate.
The end of the world as we know it draws near.
We're expected to start our own lives where we can't afofrd to be late
to our jobs, or our classes. We're expected to know how to
live our own lives, to start our own with our mates,
but how can we when you didn't teach us anything?

I can almost taste the sweetness of freedom,
mixed with the acrid stench of the end on my tongue.
I know I won't see most of you ever again,
and to think we couldn't wait to be done.
Tears I kept held back this long fill my
eyes, and my breath catches in my lungs.
We have one more summer spent with
friends, to fill with more memories spun
deeper into this web we weave. These webs are our lives.