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
