Dead eyes staring back at me, a hollow shell without a soul. Don't think I can take it, I'm beyond repair. Still another day comes, still nowhere to run. If you were here you would say keep your head, up you'll be ok. So I sleep in as long as the sun will let me, the poetry is gone, there's no sense behind the songs.
Miss you in the morning. Miss you in the evening. Miss you in my heart. Death in a major key.
Tired hipsters, rich kids in new cars, on the sidewalks in and out of the bars. Shouting at you while another bag drains dry. No sentiment, no letter writ, no prayers offered when you're living sick. Everyone stays away. Saving up their sadness. The poetry is gone. There's no sense
behind the songs.
Miss you in the morning. Miss you in the evening. Miss you in my heart. Death in a major key.
All those damaged invisible rings, cells multiplying under microscopes. Light shines in your living room, stars on the river so bright. All those damaged invisible rings. Cells multiplying under microscopes.
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