Swore I saw you right in front of me
You made faces and asked me to leave
But if I'm not gone on the count of three
I'll fool you into making me believe

You're all misspelled words on origami pages
In illuminated cages on a pharma dossier

You're wearing out your gray nightgown
I made a grave for growing old
The hardest part of giving up is knowing how to write it down
And we were safer in the ground

And it's your best work, I'll admit
But you wrote it with same hand that you folded your money with
Now who gets the royalty check
The drunk who wrote the story
Or the bottle that commissioned it?

Take it all with a tall pillar of table salt
Make a pig's ear out of one's right eye
Take a knee, break a wing
Never kill a bird that sings
Never trust the hand you're shaking
Make me believe

Solemnly swear to me
That you wrote the last line
Your heart might attack
If you ever see heaven
Tell them 'buy my ticket back'

Trading all the words you stole
I held on, you were letting go
The hardest part of giving up is knowing how to let me down

So how does the story end now?