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Poem
All that's left are embers, the remnants of a past
That wasn't good enough to last, no, never good enough to last
People talk about things that were just too good to last
But that was never us, we were always just splinters of the past
The remnants of the past, a lament of what could be
Faded, tattered photographs of them and you and me
That wasn't good enough to last, no, never good enough to last
People talk about things that were just too good to last
But that was never us, we were always just splinters of the past
The remnants of the past, a lament of what could be
Faded, tattered photographs of them and you and me