my swan song

What was my swan song,
pierced a searing hole in my pocket.

Your boots on my gravestone,
You should be prepared to get hands on.

I wouldn’t try to make you feel sorry,
and I’m still wearing your glasses.

I tried to glue them to my head,
but left them with your papers.

Maybe in another life,
I could have handled it better—

Maybe in another life,
I would have felt your hands against my stomach--

Every minute counts, can you see me failing to hold myself back?

I’m stuck here, and i cant put myself in your business.

You’re still here, and your coats on my bed.

If I’m being honest I appreciate the effort,
but I know it’s all apart of the game.

I know I’ll never be satisfied, and it always ends the same.