Fade is all I can do, or spoil it all, fizzle out and be boring, what else can I do?
Well now I've torn it, before it was even once worn.
Passive aggressive, my temper is frayed. I tamper with what we played and I mean nothing now.
So he waits his turn, he knows I'm hopeless and never learn.
Holding on to a sound when he hears nothing at all.
Are you further away? Or damped by tears?
So for these years I've done nothing but hide
and hold on to the pattern of the turning tide
But it meant nothing no reason or rhyme
Just happens itself in the passing of time.