This is not the way it was supposed to be.
Me sipping Stout. You and your Martinis.
Tossing cruelties, like we were nothing…
Remember the way that we used to play?
We never needed these subtle games.
Now here we are so very far away.
But were there ever days when love meant something?
There… There, I go again.
Tripping endlessly over heart and head, so inconsistent with my emotions.
So, I’ll stick to Stout whilst you sip your gin and we pretend that nothing ever happened.
All the while I’ll be wondering what you’re thinking.
And if were there ever days when love meant something.
© Michael Salamone – Salatone Recordings – Michael Salamone Publishing