I wouldn't say I miss her,
But maybe I do,
Where did it all go?
I can't forget, but I don't remember what,
I've been lying on a bed of coals,
My mind is a revolving door,
The floor is shaking,
The room is closing in,
Darkness overwhelmed me,
Evil is real,
It tastes like the last drop of whiskey.

I keep waking up
And falling asleep,
Each day somewhere else.
The days keep passing by:
Hours like minutes,
Sometimes...
Minutes like days.
I forget, or become
Mentally unconscious,
a machine on auto-pilot,
Then at times I awake,
The trance, the coma,
It stops,
And then once more,
Me again...
Lost, stranded,
In a sea of people.
My world has become
A revolving door
Of people entering and exiting
My life.

Give me an empty corner in an empty room in an empty house at the dead end of the street:
And lock all the doors and all the windows then close the curtains and seal the doors shut:
Then cut the phone line, and the electricity and the gas bill can keep stacking up for all I care,
But leave the water so I can keep it running from the bath tub and the bathroom sink till it floods the kitchen and the basement becomes an indoor pool.
Leave me with music like Waits or Dylan blasting at two in the morning, while the neighbors argue with each other,
But I can no longer hear them,
Any of them,
To hell with everybody.

In my endless search to replace you,
I've traveled the world in 80 days,
And still I cannot find your substitute.
I've looked for you in my reflection through so many eyes believing the lies and promises I once made you.
I've searched for your love in the many carnal fantasies of women that in the darkness looked like you.
I've wandered like an explorer through so many satin beaches, but no matter my expeditions, I could never make port in an island quite like yours.
I've tasted and drank from the poisonous fruits of love many evergreens have offered me,
But nothing tastes quite like you, the dew of your love and your thighs is not the same in any branch I've reached for.
I've heard the song of the many sleepy voices of seraphs in the morning,
But an "I love you" doesn't sound quite as good when it's not coming out of your lips.
I've tried endlessly to satisfy the void left behind by your indifference,
But I've come to the conclusion that it would take a thousand broken hearts and their pieces shattered into smithereens to try to fix the ticking bomb that now beats in my chest.