It's a weekday and I cleaned my room again,
of endless moments I thought we once shared.
An open book, read every single page.
Naive enough to think that help is on the way.
Rise and shine a day awaits,
watching clear skies turn to grey.
It's a dead end road and I want out.
There's no return.
Let me know when will it end?
If only you were my only friend, Id be fine.
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A direction split right from the start.
I'm picking up the pieces to this broken heart.
Move over and make room for someone else.
Maybe a smile will find itself right on your face again.
Another empty sleeping bag. A broken speaker plays out loud.
An Elliot Smith song for those who can't move on and on.
A tour to write you home about of how I'm doing. Pretty sad.
You're not here and all my letters are lost in the mailbox for good