Melancholians.

Remind me to return nothing back…
To the nonexistent people on my favorite hill.
They must be wondering where I am now…
I’m coming through the tasteless feelings I feel.

Like an abyss, there’s my childhood street.
Shaded with black streetlights, blurry and fading…
It’s been quite a while since I’ve walked these parts…
The houses are still burning like iridium babies.

Kick one to the side, kick none to the curb…
My mind flushes their cries to the gutter.
They let out “coos”, drowning down in dark sewers…
I can’t help but not hear my heart flutter…

Out on the hill, sits a house encloaked.
I approach to the door with a package in hand.
Wrong house, wrong path, wrong everythings…
On the silent platform I noisily stand.

Remind me to return nothing back…
To the nonexistent people on my favorite hill.
They must be wondering where I am now…
I’m coming through the tasteless feelings I feel.