The one that chose the boar
The pig, hyena, the swine.
What comes before the end of the rush
Is most certainly the wine.
He's the one that took the name
Then scattered it around.
Sometimes we lose ourselves
Because we never want to be found.
Silence took my atmosphere
Tears were my relief
Sat and traced lines in the sand
That were beyond my belief.
I'd like to say I'm angry
But that would be a lie
Did you even once think of contacting me
Did you even once ever try?
Love is something tidy
No, that isn't really true.
What is, and always will be
Is I really miss you.
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