Eternal sunshine of pensive minds,
And Gloomy cast, of prosthetic heart,
The drunken eyes wander alone,
In the field of broken wanderlust.
Were you right, or were you wrong,
Who knows? coz you went along;
And went along, and went along;
Till dreams became, a thing of past.
Today as you lie, in the dusky bed,
Comforted by your wealth and grace;
You can’t help but, envision the dream,
That lies helpless, in your lonesome past.
Shards of passion, lies scattered around,
All those what-ifs, chase you like hound;
The Schrodinger Cat, remained undead,
And followed you, to your final bed.