A Little Mystery.

you left the book marked on lost intentions

that kept me hanging by a thread

and most ways I lost direction

when I saw you crawling from their bed

so when you leave in bitter sorrow

won’t you take my love

you left a postmark on my doorstep

with the wilted magazines

through the smokescreen

they looked so lonely

so I left it for all the world to see

so when you leave in bitter sorrow

won’t you take my love

you got your hands pinned by all I see through

between your cracked lips and cigarette

and in most ways I still want you

but the games up and you lost the bet

so when you leave in bitter sorrow

won’t you take my love

and when your schemes haunt tomorrow

won’t you keep a little mystery