Old friend I cant stand this growing distance. I often revisit, those sad six months when our lives got twisted, got real, real good Making the world disappear, a bottle and good company is all we needed. A phone call let you know I was back on the streets. You paid my rent and told me then that we would never speak of this again. The funny thing being is that the thing that mattered most was your head and your heart and consistency. Maybe another time and in another face, you'll find it all right there, the warmth and love you're scared, is gonna disappear. And in those hot, strange streets, You're gonna plant your world. And when those years have passed nothing will change. I guess we all go sometime.