Cleaning out the drawers
I found a photo album of the year
When back in the day the weekdays were golden
And the weekends were unclear
Flipping through these faded pages
Reminisce and kiss the past
It's funny, I went through so many stages
Each new one would phase out the last

But it only makes me more lonely
It's a life I can rent but not own
So closely detached
It's an itch that I can't scratch
All of you would love to bruise my mind
But it's not worth the waste of your time

The second drawer down is full of letters
I'll probably never write
I'll procrastinate until the paper
turns a brighter shade of white
Friends are like the seasons,
only a few weather through it all
The awkward silence at the end of the receiver,
makes me wonder why I call