Those were the days,
when you called me yours
and love was like war;
we’d both served two tours.
The thing about war
is that no one ever wins
as casualties pile up
for some other sap’s sins.
Those were the days,
when I never called you mine
since I played the fool
and missed every sign.
The thing about love
is that no one ever wins
and just when you give up,
another love begins.
Autumn Siders 