It Was Pancho Villa

remember the famous last words that someone famous said,

"tell them i said something, dont let it end like this,"

on a re-upholstered leather couch in a cloud of tv,

smoke, and cigarettes, or a mattress on a hard wood floor

and an old acoustic missing stringed guitar

playing that same stupid punk rock song,

"weve been at the end all along,"

a bathroobe in the hall from a long time agos lost friend,

and a note that waited ten years to tell me to remember him,

he said; "its been too long since we had a day together in new york,"

absences as long as life is short,

in the first chapter of the best book that i ever read in my life, it said,

"to be reborn, first you have to die,"

hey, would it be alright if i used your couch to get too drunk tonight?

i've spent so many days pushing my skies away

so i can keep my sights squarely on the ground,

reincarnations killing me