Oh the smell of burning bridges,
The door to happiness is rusting at the hinges.
Is this love or desperation?
It's the foreground.

To musical masturbation,
It's the same station, to station, to station.
What's now inflamed was once just an irritation,
What's now inflamed was once just an irritation.

Is it so bad to be the embodiment of evil?
You are clearly god's representative so I am the devil's.
You control this poetry far more than I do,
These lyrics simply reciprocate everything that you do.

And it's cruel,
Brutal but not altogether futile.
Because if for a moment or for a while,
I catch a spectre of that smile,
I could run on it for miles.

And though in most respects I hate you,
I can in some ways still relate to you.
The things I gave I now must take from you,
You scorn me this way but what was I supposed to do?

Your last letter to me,
It was frankly beautiful,
So heartfelt, so hatefull, so truthfull.
And you say I have a small town mentality,
When in actual actuality.
It's you whose staying and me who's going,
All knowledge of you erased from my knowing.
I hope I never see you again,
I'm overjoyed that this is the end.

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