The words unwritten
The words unsaid
The incomplete conversations
They come back in my head
And I find myself yearning
For the familiarity of that smoky smell
Craving for the touch
That can take me to heaven and to hell
And then the treacherous lies
Comes back to me
I see the end of the road
Through a hazy smokescreen
I fumble to collect the pieces
As they fall apart in front of me
May be I can’t remember the end
Because it wasn’t meant to be
