Who can tell me the name of all my lost things things so small not worth remembering like coins gone through a hole pocket given by mother father to buy the sweet things of life
back then my ignorance was eternal my world my own private thoughts not ready for the mourners hymning their dead
all the walking apart from me with bowed heads black questioning their grief dissolving back into me the names I love the most
leaving my soul a little lighter leaving memories I see everyday but can’t say
My teachers are dead It doesn’t matter I never listened anyway
The lessons of my tomorrows will be written with my dreams my lies
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