If I could only posses a bit of your warmth
But I never will
If you could only accept me as your last way out
But you never will
This house is desolate and sick; so sad and cold
It is mine
I fall apart every time I think of yours
Such inviting walls
The eyes are bleeding
The core is burning up
Bursting into tears
Alone on the floor
Accustomed to emptiness
As the beauty to sadness
And her world is getting dark; too dark
This endless meaninglessness
Is enfolding our thoughts less
Than the pretence of happiness
And her world is getting frail
(Like) A falling glass in slow-motion
Broken
Shattering skies
Have exposed our deepest and worst lies
And now the constructor is lost in error
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