Picture Frames

The last time I was with you,
You were cold and out of breath.
Depressed and cuffed out,
Empty cases of cigarettes.

Put a blanket around you,
And warmed you up instead.
Waved the smoke out of the room,
Put you back in bed.

Every time you were torn apart,
I sewed you up thread by thread.
You broke down and I picked you up,
Whenever you drowned yourself in regret.

I hope you'll remember me,
When you're looking through the picture frames.
They say, photographs never change,
And people never stay the same.

But I'll always be this way,
Wised by all of my mistakes.
The photographs may soon get old,
But I won't fade away.

And I hope you'll come back someday,
When you're lonely and feeling gray.
I'd still be standing on these docks,
Just waiting to sail away.