19 Jun 2009
I've lost 100 friends already.
I'll lose 100 more if I have my way,
so lets hope I don't.

I think they're better off without me.
Still I hope we meet at a dive for a drink someday,
or we say we will.

It's the silence that keeps us holding on.
It's just the thought of what's already gone.

Sentiment: it overflows until I can't recall
The faces or numbers buried behind velvet fog.

It's the silence that keeps us holding on.
It's just the thought of what's already gone.

Are you a phantom limb?
Are you a melody defined by your own absence?
It's a terminal thought:
Did I forget to lift you up, or did you let go?