Our smiles are chipping and peeling
Like my racy-red 001 Annabelle polish
She wants amending words told to her
By you.
Speak enough drivel to complete the sentence; are we meant to be together?
Well, do Frank Sinatra and Rush mix into a heterogeneous compound?
Am I personable enough to spend my time thinking 'bout the two of us?

I know that the day we walked
And the ground cemented our feet
To stay,
And the stones almost, but not quite
Perfectly spread us apart,
That day,
We just weren't meant to be.

Can't you see?
The sun is gone, and now the puddles will soak into our shoes
Deep into our soles
And say
You're just drowning in lost lust.

No more singing to me,
Baby.
That voice of yours just isn't sweet
Enough anymore.
It's like I crossed the path
Leading to where the roses were drooping
And the red was faded to strawberry,

And the thorns cut not as sharply as before,
And the dew trickled down,
Instead of sitting on the roses' crown.

We
had a deal,
never break a promise.

We
even shook on it,
the fingers on our hands slipping
into the cracks and the rough edges rounded by our thumbs,
and when we
let go for a single second I waited to hear you say I (promise)
but even when you said it your voice cracked
We
were broken already.