The wheels start to roll,
I start to pound the outside of the bus,
a strong desire to stop its movement.
I need to pull it back and capture a last glimpse,
and take back the years and mistakes
that's riding out of town with you.
The oath we made,
the years of togetherness,
and the strong feelings we shared
are going away and I'm left in pain.
A part of me yearns to hold-on,
the other half urges say good-bye.
There were good weeks, bad months,
and a lot of sad years.
Passionate nights and commitments:
forgotten anniversaries and birthdays,
cruel words, silent nights,
and long-gone days left empty shells.
It stole our magnetism,
left two strangers wallowing in misery,
and me feeling sexually pure as the day we wed.
My hands sting from pounding
that damn hound speeding out of town
and I stopped to ask myself,
"why do I want a last glimpse,"
no use stoking coals when the flame's out?
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