Pink Afterglow

Fluorescent faces fading in the morning light Was it love,

or just the architecture of the night?

You had the lines,

but I was holding the pen I’m archiving the playwright,

I’m not playing again

Tattoo on the waistline,

bassline in the air I’m erasing the script,

the ghost is no longer there

Why did it take me ages to say?

I wasn’t your cliché,

I’m walking away Oh no,

the script is flipped on the page This is the rhythm,

this is my coming of age

My coming of age.

The signal is set.

Quarrying new ground, burning the CDs to ash The Iliad of the

heart, surviving the crash You couldn’t read the prose,

you couldn’t see the scope Leaving you behind,

cutting the rope

It’s my stage, it’s my song,

it’s my life

Silence sent away.

Blood

on the page.

You stole the love,

but couldn't keep the cage.

I made you the star,

but I am the stage.

This is my coming of age.

I wish I could’ve seen it...

God.

100% Tiguidou.

The rewrite is complete.