He can't stop thinking. Gambling dirge. Buried in his money. Accountant undertaker. His feelings got shoved back down his throat and now she spends her days blaming him for destroying her. You had me. Will you get me back? Will you paint me black? Disowning what is not his. Used. The smell of industry. Whistling blues songs. September is dying. Well I have faith that you will disillusion me so many times that I'll stop feeling and bury myself in memories. Lonely heart pounding in a puddle of misery. Fuck you for being you. Mid. Night time holiday. Mixed imagery with a dash of poison. It's leaving a scar. I forgot to remind you to. Somebody elses love. Sails off into the distance. Dusted for signs of life. Original desire expired.