Silently peering beyond the soft cloud lifting my...
Down the golden road that leads under my bed...

It’s ironic
That a year has passed...

One day… I tell myself
I'll go back to my house...

This is a conversation between two people, just so...
How lonely do you feel...

Ya know I have been thinking
And we don’t have a normal friendship...

I don't want to hear about the friends you lost
Or another sob story about the person your'e not...

You say you can read me like a book
Well then you need to take another look...

Some nights, or rather, every night
When the clock's hand slides past seven...

It’s just me and you, alone in this room
Same old story replays again and again...

What kind of world is this
Where one can't even say hi to their neighbor...

Drifting in and out
Of my silent reverie...

Several empty bottles lay by my side
Because I want nothing more than to die...