It feels quite peculiar
elegant in some way.
Books about storms
and your bubble breaks
to let Heathcliff in.
It's not the same this time.
The road is well traveled
by all the seasons changing.
Half-hearted love remarks
and you're mostly blind
to literary references.
It's not the same this time.
Is it that you don't need a heart?
Better be all lead and lost than
pretend you never had a part.
And, me I'm of different stock.
I only know nothing changes
when you can't stay the same.
