Songs I Write | VIII

Flipping Pages

Do you still wear varsity jackets that don't fit?
Do you still draw versions of you that won't exist?
Do you still stare up to that ceiling's sky of beige?
Do you still care to dream of what could've been if I stayed?

And didn't flip the page
And didn't strike your name
And remembered how your voice sounds amidst fits of rage
Or the feel of your face
The hand that served some grace
Riddled with disheartening dishonest trace
Regrets I forget to hate
But I wonder how you been anyway

Do you still role-play you're a pilot flying for the army?
Are thoughts of fighting senselessly still not sounding alarming?
You used to be calm but in the way of a perfect storm
Like how they deceive you into faith that it won't demolish your warmth

And the pure happiness that once was attainable
Because you're the reason I can't find it anymore
I almost guarantee that I'd been swiftly replaced but
Do you still dare to dream of what could've been if I stayed?

And didn't flip the page
And didn't strike your name
And remembered how your voice sounds amidst fits of rage
Or the feel of your face
The hand that served some grace
Riddled with disheartening dishonest trace
Regrets I forget to hate
But I wonder how you been anyway

I didn't flip the page
And didn't strike your name
And remembered how your voice sounds amidst fits of rage
And the feel of your face
Your hand had served some grace
Riddled with disheartening dishonest trace
Regrets I forget to hate
But I wonder how you been anyway

Anyway