I still gets sad over things that were buried on the seafloor,
Sometimes, I caught myself hanging myself back to our tarnished door,
Two months after two years, a fast moving train,
You laid your lies on fancy tables, never revealing your pain.
Walking through green corns, but you're into grains,
Never wanted their hearts, just their all sap brains,
You never was ready, so you blow my eighteenth birthday candle,
You're in constant chaos, said I was too hard to handle.
You never left our mad house, your cousin told me you're haunted,
Terrible phone calls wanting me back, but I ran out of tears to shed,
In between invisible cords and undelivered mails—
I just want my weight back, you should eat your made-up scales.
I kept million reasons inside your two-year-old pocket,
It's never one for ten, I broke your cheapest locket.
It's time to go, let your kinky and greedy mind work for now,
No longer your full-time teacher, so don't ask me how.
