Smell that ever-pleasant view
Of course, she’s just a memory too
The strange feeling like waking from a dream
Just moments before, it all felt so real
And now it’s fading, forgetting, and nearly gone
How long will I still feel?
The dreams and memories are all in the past
And both fact and fantasy still last
Sometimes the dreams are so much better
And sometimes reality is
much worse
I sit reading and writing tear-stained letters
But always under the same lonely curse
Count the cost of that very last bullet
Will it really ever change a thing?
In which Hell, this or the next,
Will I feel the harshest sting?
If this torment that I feel is so great
I might as well get to that next Hell a little late
Who knows, maybe later in life I’ll lose this frown
Or maybe the cost of bullets will go down.