Eight miles home

 the night they stole my moped

and left me covered in sweat covered in grease 

on a cold night outside Maccas

and me thinking it's eight miles home

I thought that was as bad as it gets

but it wasn't

and you know

i'm gentle

tbat kind of thing doesn't make you tougher

it makes you sadder

it makes you feel the world is cruel

I thought that the laughs and kisses

would last

would be real enough to sustain a dream

they weren't

you were a lie I told myself

and I never knew

because I try not to

the moped turned up 

but if I remember right

I couldn't use it again

somehow it worked out though

I don't remember right

I don't remember at all

you cannot nurture everything

and things rot away if left uncared for

we try not to

but when we look

we find we have