Paul Three

It’s only half true, when you smell the Limes, on a windblown avenue, act like you don’t know, forget ties that bind, feel it in your bones, try to stay aloof, say you know what’s right, except there's no clue, you’re not alone, these desolate nights, let others keep score, don’t rage and argue, not like it’s a crime, let the fire warm you, you have to keep going, in the cold evening light, when the kid's phone, they speak of your virtues you’re not inclined, to know that you're through, It’s just a strange time.