Two years ago, we were celebrating a kiss,
you brought along your Polaroid camera
and asked the waiter if she could take a photograph
and you gave it to me, so I could always november...
A year ago, and it's just me against the routine,
re-tracing my steps to an existence before you,
and in doing so, stumbling back to that november
framed for ever on that photograph
Now, I finally shed the skin you once kissed,
my complexion, now filled with scars made out of paper cuts
I still have that picture, it's edges now blunt...
Do you remember?