Walking on the other side,
its my mother’s side

of me.

And passing all the photographs

of my lifeless past

you’ll see

I’m troubled by double meanings,

but do they mean much to you?

And I’m done with these half cut

dealings,

like with everything else

you never see it through.

Was it wrong? Was it right?

Does it matter?

Does it count if we found what none of

us were after?

No
Raindrops are dropping on me like your heart in the coulds above me, but one day they’ll drift right away, I never wanted that rain to stop the sun you loved.
I always knew it was the sun you loved.