Do you scanter soaked streets, thinking I'm sauntering the past?

Wishing we would've held on longer to liquefying grasp,

must've thought you'd made a spectacle impression behind evicting mask;

Know there's not much these weary eyes haven't heard through placed sounds,

if chance could erase exacts moments to ease head's ever often pound –

poison I'd surely suck down....

memories continue to reel, unable to stay still;

when I'm out,

steady wondering through bleakness alone,

Do you still think of us in a different time gone?

You've but all disappeared from eternal bruises,

don't we all remain slightly unhealed –

always another shade of the walking wounded?