"Populace In Two"

Your memories will always haunt me like a ghost
To put it nicely I hope you choke
A poet of sorts but I'm not enough to give you an eyesore
It's hard to swallow with your hands around my throat
I'm sick and tired of, I told you so
You can call me at home but I know better than to answer the phone
When people ask about the last time that we spoke
I let the stitches do the talking for the most part
And I leave out how you threw a lamp through my front window

Just burn the photographs and bury all the pages that we knew
In short this is a long goodbye to unexpecting you