I threw all my pride into a hornet's nest While you were asleep Amid all the drums Feigning to celebrate some kind of end to the world. But me and my memory, We wear each other out Staying up late And tearing the tags from all of those bright ideas I'd like to believe were my own. But casting my words, florid and overgrown In place of myself I kicked in the door and lost all your sympathy I guess that's the way that it goes. But sometimes we climb, aimless as vines Just to see what we've missed As if this half empty house Could fill with the sounds Of the places we've been. We measured our love over a yawning grave, It wasn't quite fair But that was the day that you most resembled me, Stoic and fearful. If age draws us apart, I hope that we'd both pretend Just for a while. 'Cause all of those lies could add up to honesty And save us a whole lot of time. And sometimes we starve, Just to get far from a suitable truth As if each piece of our souls Could flower, then fold, And become something new. But you didn't even try.