Programs.

Seven steps
And a swollen chest
You knew that I had wept
Cause you left what was best
Messed up.
Yes, you made a mess of
Real love
And all of its trappings.
Still, the traffic sings
-screams your name
“Save him! Someone save him!”
But you were the one who could swim,
While my fins were broken to begin with
And the width we’ve left to go
Is broken so;
So much for second chances
And 3 a.m. slow dances.
Cause what’s getting in my pants is
No longer you,
But all this extra room
I’d made a little too soon.

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