Skyline watching from above
As our shoes begin to rust, enjoyment in our bins
Keeping us from heading in
This wooden box where we lay
It's enticing to leave and become a stray
My aging friends seeing where they go
Do I part with you or see myself alone
Vines overtake my home
White walls turn to green
Broken pieces wither away beside me
No sign of my friends
Did they decide to leave
I hope they come back, I'll just sit here and see