More times than five I've been right here by your side. Still wondering... where did you go? Walk down the hall in a mental menacle; Don't want to be 'round when you take yourself out.
But I have more vigour than this. Step to the plate to swing and miss. And it's a complicated life, When how you live is how you die.
Looks like your soul is connected to a wall. A photograph stands by the bed, Of better times, when we crumbled with our spine, But lived the next day, and put the malice away.
And that's when I noticed the drip, Ignored the line that didn't skip. It seemed the blue suburban sky Turned to grey, polluted night.
So now you sleep inside this space, A bed of roses that thorns replaced. No more sleepless nights. Just for me, but as for you, a memory.