The Last Song

Hey comes fast, But bye come faster, Over comes last, But under comes after, From set up to set hut, In from the monotone cadence, From plastic and head buts, Out roar of excruciating patience, A coin toss with two sides, The score binded by ties, Only one man leaves with dreams, The other leaves with goodbye, The instruments in which we call music says goodbye, As some smile, and other cry. From the uproar of fans and the chill in the atmosphere, We stare at the sky asking questions as if. We were a aeronautical engineer. Through the exit our hopes and life grunts with tarnish, As the last song carries through the wind all we have is each other, A grasp on the shoulder as our eyes are painted with varnish.