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The art of dying

de Written to Speak

That blue coffee cup isn't of much use now
It collects change to fund the things
That I'm not proud of

My friends all say that I have changed
Forgot my roots and lost my way
Perhaps I've shifted since last fall
But your painting still hangs on my wall

And every night you wear a new skirt
And I used to care about buttoned-up shirts
Now I look forward to sleeping in
And when the next day will begin

The next drink might swallow me
I know I shouldn't lift my lips to see
But after everything you put me through
I'm allowed to be as sad as you

I'm allowed to be as sad as you

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