She wears a red dress.
There's no time for simple obsessions.
Her eyes and the colour of her hair.
She's so far from me. Does the future exist?
Her smile and the way that she cares.
I would've dumped me a long time ago.
I've tried so hard to dump her.
And memories survive like addiction to something
that I've never had, never knew.
She wears a red dress in some distant connection
like an ad for some product
that could make life better.
She lives in four pictures,
two years of questions,