From the time we intercepted
Feels a lot like suicide.
Slow and sad, grown inside us,
Arouse and see you’re mine.

Love has seen your run-around,
Who wanna seek you now?
I want a peace,
I’d whine out.

Love’s reached his side,
Grab this gentleness inside.
Heard a cry,
Six feet down,
In six weeks’ time,
The mess you left,
Will end.

“This Picture”
PLACEBO

I hold an image of the ashtray girl,
Of cigarette burns on my chest..
I wrote a poem that described her world,
That put our friendship to a test..
And late at night Whilst on all fours,
She used to watch me kiss the floor..
What’s wrong with this picture?..

Farewell the ashtray girl..
Forbidden snowflake..
Beware this troubled world..
Watch out for earthquakes..
Goodbye to open sores..
To broken semaphores..
You know we miss her,
We miss her picture..

Sometimes it’s faded,
Disintegrated,
For fear of growing old..
Sometimes it’s faded,
Assassinated,
For fear of growing old..

Farewell the ashtray girl..
Angelic fruit cake..
Beware this troubled world..
Control your intake..
Goodbye to open sores..
Goodbye and furthermore..
You know we miss her,
We miss her picture..

Sometimes it’s faded,
Disintegrated,
For fear of growing old..
Sometimes it’s faded,
Assassinated,
For fear of growing old..

Hang on,
Though we try,
It’s gone..

Sometimes it’s faded,
Disintegrated,
For fear of growing old..
Sometimes it’s faded,
Assassinated,
For fear of growing old..

Can’t stop growing old..