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.