It's really gone this time.

Friend, I could jump into the Atlantic and no one would ever hear from me again.
The ground is crumbling beneath us, it already looks as though GOD
may have been clawing at the hillside to reach us, as I think-


I need to get out of here, or we'll end up drunk for another 3 years.
I know you have been crawling in and out of bed with your new lovers
I know that they're probably better than me
in life and looks.
Meanwhile
I can't live or look at you.
It's really gone this time:
the feeling of splendidness
the orange days.
the gigantic stumbling of us towards the beat-up farmhouse.
I hope you find what you're looking for.
I tried.
But I never want to hear from you again.