The Hatchet

Crooked Fingers

It's such a bore mouling over,

Another meaning it have,

There was likely some other

Subtle thing hidden there.

I meant what I said,

I mean what I said.

I'm leaving, my friend.

It's hitting me now,

If I loved you before

I could love you again

And I'm not coming back.

The tears in and out

You said you would come

Just to see what was left,

But you were not there.

To leave it again,

To coldly pretend,

I neatly tired to lose it,

So lets bury it now.