Eggs in a Basket - Told Slant

The love is gone if you have to ask it

There will be no sap tapped from a casket

There will be no hands held through the last of it

No hands clasped and on mattresses

The love is gone like eggs in a basket

Reading old text threads, covering the date with my thumb

Pretending that you just wrote

«I love you, when are you coming home?»