Start to Corpse: The show opens with the discovery of Richie Lipschitz's body, then jumps back in time to show How We Got Here
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Too shy and awkward to dance at parties, the introverted kid turned to alcohol
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As I sit here, shaking from the walk, but definite My fingers smelling of smoke and myself I don't need anyone else I think of you not him Who was sent by an Angel this day last year Just a refreshing distraction Remembering the 4th of May As the clouds' gates open And the lightning hits the sky My long white nails not the only thing missing In this carbon copy of a pastel aftermath But it's not him, it's you, the one I fell for long before Like last year when I cried this rain in tears Your circuit's dead again I should have told you I'm scared of losing people The park bench now all alone But its role well played I light a cigarette for the villain and the golden calf As the sky clears and leaves me damned with you Rain-drenched but ridiculously happy Like the catcher in the rye As I say goodbye to my college guy A closure of something never made to begin At this place as final act and promise there remains A burnt out match And a half-smoked cigarette in the rain A wonderful stroll down the memory lane
