Entr'acte II

Leave you? Leave you?
How could I leave you?
How could I go it alone?

Could I wave the years away with a quick goodbye?
How do you wipe tears away when your eyes are dry?

Best friend, brother, could I recover?
Give up the fun we have known?
Not to overthink your words every day and night.
Not to reconsider my texts and to rewrite
and to rethink and to reread...
How could I survive?

Could I leave you?
And your posts of the world's best bands?
And our meetings with all those looks, cryptic words,
sullen glares from your hard dark eyes?

Leave the quips with a sting, jokes with a sneer,
friendship demonstrations once a year?
Leave the lies ill-concealed,
and the wounds never healed
and the game's not worth winning?
And wait! I'm just beginning!

What?!
Leave you, leave you?
How could I leave you?!
What would I do on my own?
Putting thoughts of you aside in my favorite bar,
would I think of suicide...?
Please, don't make me laugh!

Could I live through the pain while the time passes by?
Would it pass? It would pass.
Could I bury my rage with a friend who is there
and who cares? Bet your ass.

But I've done that already,
or didn't you know, friend?
Tell me, how could I leave
when I left long ago, boy!

Could I leave you?
No, the point is, could you leave me?

Well, I guess you could leave me the laughs,
leave me the smurfs,
leave me Eiichiro's Bar, the jokes and all that.
You could leave me the logs for sentiment's sake
and ninety percent of the drawings we made.

And the chats and the books;
my friend, you keep the drugs,
buddy, you keep my boots.
And boy, I'll take the memories,
you just keep forgetting.
Keep all of your shit and...
Just wait a goddamn minute!

Hah!
Leave you?
Leave you?!
How could I leave you?!
Best friend, I have to confess...

Could I leave you?
Yes!
Will I leave you...?
Will I leave you?
Guess!

No more

They disappoint,
they disappear,
they die but they don't.
They disappoint
in turn, I fear.
Forgive, though, they won't.

Running away, let's do it;
free from the ties that bind.
No more despair or burdens to bear
out there in the yonder.

Running away, go to it.
Where did you have in mind?
Have to take care: unless there's a "where"
you'll only be wandering blind.
Just more questions, different kind.
Where are we to go? Where are we ever to go?

Running away, we'll do it;
why sit around, resigned?
Trouble is, boy, the farther you run,
the more you feel undefined
for what you have left undone,
and, more, what you've left behind.

We disappoint,
we leave a mess,
we die but we won't;
we disappoint
in turn, I guess,
Forget, though, we won't.

And it's nothing new.