One midnight,
you will be home,
but feel stranded in a distant island,
and the songs you loved play in the background,
sounding more like dirges than
songs you can dance to.
Sombre
something grates your heart,
you try so much not to think at all
DON'T THINK! DON'T THINK!
Your brain doesn't obey the command,
It says that these are affairs of the heart
And it must be involved - it is the self-appointed judge, jury, witness,
and the advocate
The brain commands you to picture
the love of your life
in someone else arms
And you do - who are you to disobey a wise man?
The clock past midnight
and the dirges play on ... and on
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