# INSTRUMENTAL Our tattoo artist posted a picture of your arm for obvious reasons I didn't recognize your skin at first, new markings and new blotches I used to know those pink lakes like the back of my hand It was the freckle by the crease of your elbow that gave you away And I thought about the time I ran my finger over it Over and over, to see if it was a freckle or a mole You laughed and called me a hypochondriac I'm not sure how I got this from a photograph But I could tell you were a blurred happy A fast pace, burry the pain, change your hair kind of happy Your favorite kind The more I dwell on it the more I fear it will be your only I expect your days are much the same as they were before me And much the same as they will be Long after you forget my turns of phrase You avoid the hours alone because you bore yourself I'm sure you're talking to new boys to fill that void And I'm sure their replies are never quite good enough for you You smoke weed in the evenings to evade the morning dread I'm sure you look breathtaking as you french inhale Maybe you have a man you met on the dance floor to stay the night Maybe you stopped off at the corner shop on the way home And you bought that wine we used to drink to share between you You love the fact he smokes with you I was always far too fond of the sunrise for that You wake at 11 am And play probably should with yourself until lunchtime Then you dress up cool and meet up with seven friends Who don't know a thing about your mom You give all of yourself and take all of them And yet never quite reach equilibrium in your own skin A tear walks your tattoo on my screen at this thought I don't mean to be bitter my love I just hope that one day you can see yourself as casually wonderful As you are on the phone in my hand, can't stop staring Your new motto is acid acid-wash the screen pretty I'm sorry I couldn't stick around To watch you discover it for yourself