It was fun. Farewell.
You went to North Carolina
and moved in with some artist chef.
You tattooed your breast;
was that a cry for help?
I guess I didn't know you that well.
Oh, hell.
Sometimes I dream we're still together
in New York, back in the day
the Towers were up,
and we were still young;
but somehow it all just slipped away.
Hey, hey.
Everybody's buying their tickets,
but me, I'm still laying low.
I know a time might come
when I will have to run;
but until then this is still my home.
Oh, woe.
So if you wanna write me a letter,
make it a postcard, or just a text;
'cause I'll never accept
the story that you sell;
but, honey, I still wish you well.
Oh, hell.
@pvk2020 Feb 2022
Good song. Simple guitar, sweet, and nice voice, oh hell