No use to rue
decisions made
As future fast
begins to fade
The smoke will linger
sting the eyes,
it’s ashes, left
with many, alie
Memory,
it’s ghostly form,
once thought
t’would weather
any storm
No more,
the breach
is much to wide
naught shall mend
what doth divide
No more,
'tis done
the end draws near
No more
No more
No more, my dear.
No more.
decisions made
As future fast
begins to fade
The smoke will linger
sting the eyes,
it’s ashes, left
with many, alie
Memory,
it’s ghostly form,
once thought
t’would weather
any storm
No more,
the breach
is much to wide
naught shall mend
what doth divide
No more,
'tis done
the end draws near
No more
No more
No more, my dear.
No more.