You fool,
What a fool.
As well write a song,
Stupid words of young.

With what's been done,
We won't return.

Can't hide resentment,
Can't fake contentment,
The point is broke,
We can't return.

To leave open drawers,
To feast on the rotting,
What more joy can we find,
How else to reconcile?

An unwavering stance,
It holds a trembling lip,
Bid so long to our sandcastle,
Soon it will as it was.

You fool,
What a fool.