Going... Going... Gone.
Going... Going... Gone.
By Brian F. Jenkins
I saw them
Losing a memory.
Who is she
To you?
The chin bone connects
At the fingers. Recollects
At the lips, at the end
Of my loneliness (and I'm)
Going.
Going.
Gone.
Going.
Going.
Gone.
I saw them
Forging a history.
Reactions
Way over due.
And the shot glass connects
With the wall. Recollects
At the lips, at the end
Of another one. I'm
Going.
Going.
Gone.
Going.
Going.
Gone.
And the fire connects
With the car. Recollects
In the sky, with the hope
That it lands on the rope.
And the thread connects
To my home. Recollects
In a can of gas
Where I've placed all our regrets.
(And I'm)
Going.
Going.
Gone.
Going.
Going.
Gone.
By Brian F. Jenkins
I saw them
Losing a memory.
Who is she
To you?
The chin bone connects
At the fingers. Recollects
At the lips, at the end
Of my loneliness (and I'm)
Going.
Going.
Gone.
Going.
Going.
Gone.
I saw them
Forging a history.
Reactions
Way over due.
And the shot glass connects
With the wall. Recollects
At the lips, at the end
Of another one. I'm
Going.
Going.
Gone.
Going.
Going.
Gone.
And the fire connects
With the car. Recollects
In the sky, with the hope
That it lands on the rope.
And the thread connects
To my home. Recollects
In a can of gas
Where I've placed all our regrets.
(And I'm)
Going.
Going.
Gone.
Going.
Going.
Gone.