All my dreams are dead
Strewn about the bedroom floor
The ashtrays are overflowing in the yellow afternoon
Its a state of emptiness i dont want anymore

I had meaning
In the spaces between her fingers
A purpose, in the dusty whispers of her name
I gazed at love, and its memory still lingers

The minutes are hours, hours years
I feel nothing but the ghosts of the past
Here in this winter of discontent
It was never meant to last

I walk and go nowhere
I wake in the same state of despair
You are but an endless thought
And i am still right here