This is going to be hard,
She turned to me and said, in the dark,
And now my hands smell like Christopher.

I can’t go home, and it hurts to stay,
I wake every day just to pretend and play
And now my hands smell like Christopher.

I feel trapped by some people who love me,
And those who I love, hurt me,
And now my hands smell like Christopher.

I feel ashamed, for I can’t cope with pressure
But how could I live, if I cannot stress her?
And now my hands smell like Christopher.

I hold onto things which I should let go of,
Memories, letters, pink palms and photos,
And now my hands smell like Christopher.

I’m so happy that the rain had stopped,
My hands got so tired of holding the umbrella.

While I should have just let the rain come.

It used to be a Sunday,
Now it is a Monday,
The colors had changed too,
From orange to green,
The numbers from two to four,
Lost One on the go,
He fled as well,
Now twice the pain,
Soccer ball under the table,
No one there to play with it.

No arranged seats,
On old, gray sofas,
I won't hear your stories,
Your empty seats in every room,
All the things I can't ask you,
Thinking if you wonder too,
On lonely nights when it's so cold,
If she ever loved me too?
I think I was just there to listen,
Murdered by the wisest killer.

Your voice in my head,
Me doing nothing,
And waiting, always late,
When it came to timing,
It doesn't matter now,
As you'll be gone,
And you won't come back,
You don't even love me back,
And it's been too long,
For me to not move on.

But I'll keep the picture,
It's in my drawer,
My friends tell me I'm such a dreamer,
For thinking we'll be fine again,
But I know we'll never meet again,
So I get to hide my secret,
You were such a dear friend,
Your words so sweet,
When I felt so down,
I wish I could've called you mine.