"from the bed near your death,
and all the machines that made a mess,
far away the falcon flew.
now i want to be near you."

"What's left is only bittersweet,
for the rest of my life, admitting the best is behind me.
now i'm drunk and afraid, wishing the world would go away
what's the point of singing songs,
if they'll never even hear you?"

pockets

every little wad of paper

every receipt

every empty wrapper

every tissue

my heart holds its breath

hoping it's some kind of note

some kind of clue

but it's just a wad of paper

just a receipt

just an empty wrapper

just a used tissue