You’re imperfect, and maybe that’s why I try. 

Digging for secrets inside all of your lies.

I wish you could see yourself in spite of this new guise.

Disregard all of your pride, it’s time to set this right.

In the spirit of love, we both paid the fine.

The tithe, whatever helps you sleep at night.

In the spirit of us, I felt you lost your drive.

You felt I lost a high, new visions turned into prisons when I held us in new heights.

Different gears, I wanted to extend it, but you wanted to end it.

In the spirit of trust, we couldn’t lend it.

Or mend it, most of our time spent dancing in remembrance.

Suppress it, the reason we came together, feels like stolen memories you left with.