What A New Low When I found her there, that fateful august morning, Her eyes were bloodshot, clearly still in mourning, But as she lay there, her fists clenched in the sand, I can still swear I heard angels. After coffee's and cigarettes, I guess I saw more colour, In those cheeks, and her smile returned so pure, 100 steps and her eyes spoke more than words, Moments stretched to years, and she was a memory again. As she walked, away... In her good shoes, I can still see her go, That thud in my ears, must've been my heart, Trying to escape and chase her down, What a new low... Knowing you... Every time we walk down this street, together, I still feel alone, even though you're there right next to me, Eventually, I hope we'll find another road, I hope you grab my hand so I can feel you once again. In her good shoes, I can still see her go, That thud in my ears, must've been my heart, Trying to escape and chase her down, What a new low... Knowing you... Now break your last promises up, Feed your bread to the others, if they're good enough for you. All criticism welcome, though it is a bit quiet in the Writer's Cove lately
Pretty good! But When I found her there, that fateful august morning, Her eyes we bloodshot, clearly still in mourning, I think you meant Her eyes were blood shot, not we