I have seen all this before, without you.
Echo children, they fit us together.
Did you think this was the very first time here?
Easily broken men, this might never end.
Patchwork people, shadows in the moonlight
Broken records repeat for new partners
Old jokes used before slid them in again
The smoke from between my lips shows the lie.
Pastiche people, reworking memories
To fit new bodies in worn archetypes
What happens now has happened all before.
And each time I complete a loop around,
The world becomes less real. I am a ghost
Reliving each year, with patchwork people