Every dream, every scheme
will slip away from me.
I wonder who I'll be
now you're an absentee,
gone from my heart?
Meant to be apart.

Every time I walk past your door
I think I'll forget you a little more.

You say you'll return,
but that's not my concern.
I've heard it all before.
I know what's in store.
I guess that's that then;
we'll never talk like this again.

And every time I walk past your door
I think I'll forget you a little more.

© Kieran James Bunn