There's a ghost following me,
Day after day...

Swimming though an ocean of lies,
Telling myself there's no such thing as goodbye...

Over these past few weeks,
I haven't been quite sure...

Our lives in a different decade,
You are so close, so far away...

I know I'm not perfect,
I'm aware I'm not the best...

Goodbye, my love,
Goodbye for good...

I am a writer,
Who has dedicated herself to you...

I went outside today,
Through that friendly, creakind backdoor...

I sit in my room,
The stereo lifeless...

You're crumbling through my fingertips, as sweet...
And my hushed whispers just seem to be fuel for...

My fingers are aching for the feel of some words,
Because in my mind unless if its art, the world is...

I can no longer see
Through these brown eyes that are blinding me...