Anymore I tell myself stories about you out of some lazy habit. They don’t even sit comfortably as much as I just have them memorized. Seems to me all mantras are some kind of make-believe. There must’ve been times we really paid attention to each other, but they’ve long since passed. I aint fixin to trust you with that kind of gut feeling again, and I am not sorry to say so. Truly, it’s a relief. I been missing what don’t exist, tellin myself tales. What you offered up firstly, what we found in our togetherness, I aim to find it again. You seem to be just going around handin folks your love all temporary-like, it sparks out so fast. Our light went out but the road goes on: I’ll make my own way and I’m sure you will too. From here on out I’ll content myself with whatever we have been when we were it. Happy trails to ya.