Hello.
Goodbye.
Which way are we going?

I believe the footpath you’ve circled
through my heart has become so grooved
my carpets have turned tired and shabby.

I wish for the day you will get out of my head.

I fear for the day you will get out of my head.

I wonder if there will ever come a day where my heart’s threaded rugs
don’t preen in case you call to say.

Hello.
Goodbye.
Which way are we going.