A full year of spring cleaning and I'm as filthy as before

Your day's turned after noon,
A fast approaching moon,
A new day's rising soon,
A new day without you.

Your day's turned after noon,
A fast approaching moon,
A new day's rising soon,
A new day without you.

I can't tell if they were dreams or nightmares, but they were all of you

There is no longer a place that is real.
Not even in my own home do I feel.
Its all cold. As if old man winter has
a hold on the thermostat, and its as if
the window is open and we cant get
it closed because our arms are too busy
holding our knees to our chest and we
cant ever get any rest because at night,
none of this feels right. Its all a little
too big and were a little too small, and
our jump back to reality is more of a fall.
All we want is redemption, but there's
none at all. So we climb up these ladders
that go in reverse, and the song of the
dead is the one we rehearse, and we
swim in the sadness so widely dispersed.
Is there no end to this curse?

"Think of a life you won't take the breath from somebody else
One where you're seeking more than yourself"*

                                                     ­               *-Chris Cornell