Crocodile from Fake by Conor Lynch

Painting
Pictures of my
Memories I
Can see them still

But it’s so
Easy to fall
Victim to all
The golden hues

How can
I be so sure
That i remember
With unclouded view

Just like
My house and my name
They go up in flames

Every moment here is fleeting
No use
Never finding meaning

Woke up
Dead in the creek
I’ve been here for weeks
Or months at least

Crocodile in the stream
Flashes its teeth
As he looks at me

Stranded in the tall grass
breathing gets fast
I hear them laugh

Fell down into the pool
I’ve been such a fool

Every memory is fleeting
Grip tight
The last bit is leaving

Make up your own past and future
No one there in the end but
You and yourself

• Alternative
• bedroom-pop
• indie rock
• lo-fi
• Leeds