# INSTRUMENTAL
Our tattoo artist posted a picture of your arm for obvious reasons
I didn't recognize your skin at first, new markings and new blotches
I used to know those pink lakes like the back of my hand
It was the freckle by the crease of your elbow that gave you away
And I thought about the time I ran my finger over it
Over and over, to see if it was a freckle or a mole
You laughed and called me a hypochondriac
I'm not sure how I got this from a photograph
But I could tell you were a blurred happy
A fast pace, burry the pain, change your hair kind of happy
Your favorite kind
The more I dwell on it the more I fear it will be your only
I expect your days are much the same as they were before me
And much the same as they will be
Long after you forget my turns of phrase
You avoid the hours alone because you bore yourself
I'm sure you're talking to new boys to fill that void
And I'm sure their replies are never quite good enough for you
You smoke weed in the evenings to evade the morning dread
I'm sure you look breathtaking as you french inhale
Maybe you have a man you met on the dance floor to stay the night
Maybe you stopped off at the corner shop on the way home
And you bought that wine we used to drink to share between you
You love the fact he smokes with you
I was always far too fond of the sunrise for that
You wake at 11 am
And play probably should with yourself until lunchtime
Then you dress up cool and meet up with seven friends
Who don't know a thing about your mom
You give all of yourself and take all of them
And yet never quite reach equilibrium in your own skin
A tear walks your tattoo on my screen at this thought
I don't mean to be bitter my love
I just hope that one day you can see yourself as casually wonderful
As you are on the phone in my hand, can't stop staring
Your new motto is acid acid-wash the screen pretty
I'm sorry I couldn't stick around
To watch you discover it for yourself