finish line

Too late.
He knows youre all back-to-front.
Your bottom lip shaking,
Your happiness quakes as its torn apart.
Sunday late, when you go and get your stuff.
'Whats yours is mine',
That unpractical line
Back to bite your arm.

No, dont leave him anything,
No letters on the side.
Youve gone over everything
Screw-ups and the whys.
Erase him, his memory
A tortured decline,
Was never your style.

And its wild, dreams of the start .
At the finish line.
Gum peeling apart,
From each other's lives.

Too late,
They all know you hate your jobs.
Your liminal friends with their plans to ascend like some holy mob.
Get it straight, a lifeboats for better hearts.
Prescription or not, theres some morals forgot,
White-tattoo them on.

No, dont read him anything
No poem, song or line.
Theres virtue in everything
But most in all thats quiet,
An action is medalling
A dagger in time.
Better leave it to dry.

And its wild, dreams of the start.
At the finish line.
Gum peeling apart,
From each other's lives.

And its wild, dreams of the start.
At the finish line.
Gum peeling apart,
From each other's lives.

Wild, dreams of the start.
At the finish line.
Gum peeling apart,
From each other's lives.
Wild, dreams of the start.
At the finish line.
Gum peeling apart,
From each other's lives.