A Post-It Note For You
Former Ghosts
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Maybe you'll see me there
Our eyes will meet across the room and
The same pathetic traits that drew you in the first time draw you again
Like these pale blue eyes, so tired of lies
These calloused hands digging my own grave
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Maybe you'll see me there
This time we'll be in the middle
If only I could make time stand still
I don't want to build these walls up all over again
So take yours down for another night before this passes us by
Before this passes us by