Sat in a room

Sit in a room; half-lit and half bit,
this was it - me and you; hell did we fit.

Trickling light pouring in the out-going fight,
sat here and hiding from life, no screw still tight.
Want to build, want my castle on that hill -
just sat in a room, half-lit and always still.

Don't think that I'll ever get my fill,
sick of being sick, sick of pretending I'm always ill.
Truth is I just can't get my fill,
the earth I feel through the tills -
I want to grow my deal.

Problem is that's how I'll always feel,
plastic machines and information give me the chill;
you and me know that drill,
a roof with debt and no belief now that's the kill,
your my slave, the drone that works through the mill -
you're drained and I'm sat in a room, half-lit and half bit;
this was it, me and you; hell did we fit.

Hell did we fit.
Now I sit,
without you; my fix,
as you work to keep our fill;
while I'll forever be standing still.