I see four walls and six doors

I see pictures of better off worlds

Playing punk-rock and punching christ

Morning trumpet ends the night

I still see you sleeping in my bed

Fighting you foreshadowed the end

I still recall fucked shit you said

I see guitars I see cases

I see amps and cords

Out there clustered blissful faces

Someday they'll know all these words

I won't see you sleeping in my bed