The Last Time

It came on a Thursday
everything seemed to be holding its breath
it was the first real snow for years
it made everything look beautiful
and i wanted it to stay like this so bad
i hung like a tongue from my open mouthed window
thinking i should make the most of this while it lasts
I climbed the once familiar hill
where the rambling roses were sleeping instead
down towards the park where you once said

This is the last time i break your heart

it was full of giant snow balls, 5 feet high that people had made,
families played in the snow, it made me feel calm
so i stood for a while and i listened
wishing i could burst into flames or disappear or something
somehow the sky had deepened
and i was soaking wet, it had become a blizzard

and through the storm i saw,
on the old wall of the old bridge the new urban prophet had scribed in white
talking to me out of the howling winds
'Writers that don't write
end up talking to themselves"
and i wanted it to stay like this so bad

This is the last time i break your heart

the sky it opened up into a dream
Talking to me through the howling wind
the sky it opened up into a dream
Talking to me through the howling wind

This is the last time.