Wasted.

A new name, a new face,
A new man, woman.
It's always the same.
Two weeks of stalking
And then on to the next,
When are you going to learn
To give it a rest?
This charade of a broken heart,
The pointless exaltation
Of a pitiful infatuation,
Have you learnt maybe
Of who you are?
This is a game where the rules
Are you and you,
The rules are you yet
You always seem to lose.
Wake up sweetheart, life
Is passing by.
The clock is ticking here
And you're caught in fear
Of loneliness, misery,
And the monotony
Of mere existence.
Love is the name you give it,
But you know it's long gone.
You know that love isn't now.
Love was, has been and had been,
In little notes,
Shattered glass,
Ripped up jeans,
Red eyes.
Love isn't now, even though
That's what you call it.
This new name, new face,
New man, woman.
It's always the same.