I don’t remember last spring, the tightened grip on the past,
It’s just bits and pieces of you,
Every headline reads something new.
But everyone wants to know why
Their life isn’t better than the last.
The last set of months and weeks and days,
The last time I spent any time thinking about it.
You spent it all on the resurrection
And if it was not for everything,
Then their wasn’t any reason for spring..
Here we are at last,
Still trying to remember our past,
Why is this year the same as the last?
Or am I just still addicted to the same kind of memories,
And your headlines read tragedy,
Everyone’s trying to make the best of the last spring,
The sadness that still comes even when the Sun stays up,
And that pain never grows up..
I’m cleaning out last spring,
It should be the last time you stay..
Or the last spring you have anything to clean.