"Faded Jeans : Parliament."

You and your faded jeans
that perfectly looks like a pulchritude scene,
you may not digest what it means
if i wanna glean on one of your genes

For me, you have the most greatest grin
that makes me want to lean
and scrutinize those teal eyes
which made me steep more and be entice

I like to devour your mouth
like how those cigarettes tasted it
but it has an after taste that was drought,
i don't think some spearmint would last on it

The puffs on that parliament
we're brushing purposely on your ripped jeans
and fades desperately on your chiseled face
that's giving me discordant beam

You're ash gray hair that swift's back and forth
like how your acquiline nose is giving me the vibe of Lowell North.
your lips that we're now turning to gray
into every sentences and words you say

Your exteriors don't look the body of yesterday
but a body that has ten millimeters of cyanide
and your whole style matches the solid granite

I wish those sticks of parliaments
will be just some sort of compliments
for you and your faded jeans
is not as dichromatic as it seems

You're sticks of cigarette
we're just helping you vanish
the stupendous colours of that jeans
just how i vanish mine
because you didn't help me repaint it like it's just fine.

–Memories have no life. They're just pale reminders of a time that's gone-like faded photographs.