American Sinner

Flowers All the flowers have died and I keep your rings in a box to hide away Like all the goodbyes and all the other details slip every day Still nothing set in stone, half of us alone, the others feel that way Receipts saved or burned, trying to return our yesterday All the nights that I tried to reconstruct what wrongs led me astray The devlish little thoughts that upon me now so easy to file away The word that seems so cold, you know you shouldn’t hold them by the tail that way They can reach around and bite, and when it comes to light best have your box tops saved The history of me through my backward looking view appears to me As a parable of you as the photographs they too keep burning me Still nothing set in stone, half of us alone, the other feel that way Receipts saved or burned, we can not return our yesterdays