End
I can't handle this sharp lancing
your voice slices and dices
and your kind words
can't erase the casual malice
you deal with your hands.
Caught up in the revolving door
of your moods, I come as you go
I reach for you as you dismiss me
with, "what will be will be."
Memory flashes, intense desires,
words of love and passion,
Three months, time limited,
offer expires soon.
I will watch you float away
on a first-class intercontinental cloud
of former passions you could not
and will not
leave behind.
The strength that has
served me so well
has fled without warning.
my perseverance has made of me
a masochist.
But I knew better,
I knew better,
I knew better.
"What will be, will be."
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