Sorting through this mess Gleaming through a photograph
The swagger captured there Has vanished in the haze of time
And by a foolish whim I'm stricken with desire To phone you up and tell you of my find
I'm reminded of the shape I'm in From all the things you've left
They really bring me down And I can tell you're not yourself
So ditch this motley crew And leave these sorry few
I hope that by some master plan You're in the same boat that I am Waiting at a crossing path
To lock inside a sacred bond so tight The scattered thoughts of you Are frozen in the amber of my mind
And boxes on the shelf of documents