The place where we usually hang-out.
It’s you and me just chilling out.
The times where we have nothing to worry about.
Then Friday came, you lost the spark.
That moment arrived, my world seemed dark.
And now we’re hiding, from the past that’s stark.
How I wish I could, ’cause I know I should.
While I brood, I chop a wood.
One for my mood, another for my food.