Constant post of your present redress the memories of a past that wasn't real.
The reality of two lives split into three, where yours was two and I was that meal.
The taste of me was more then filling, became passion something Satan would steal.
A foreseen happening wouldn't you say, only to part ways and end this deal.
Our lives were far from great but our smiles flaunted this place, looking forward to heal.
Moved on with a ticket in hand and a letter of resignation grounded from false accusation which was contorted from a week day that carried a broken seal.
Remember me though I wasn't just another number in this sinful smeal.
Tell me I'm wrong, am I not ideal or we'll stick with surreal.