Solid pitch
Liquid strain
Blood curdled scream
Agony, pain

Fog driven steps
Casting away
Murdered inside
Don't want to stay

Trapped in the moment
Object of time
Cold hard walls
Prison is mine

You were there
Spirit of dust
Push right through me
My heart was a must

Shake this disease
Molded like clay
Wrapped up arms
Can longer say

Gone like a whisper
Voices in ear
Shh in the silent
No longer there

Neither of us were fine
Because I was chasing after him
And he was a few steps ahead of mine
Running in the same direction, same line, that was his only sign
Same pace, same time
His movements matched mine
He intended to leave and i'd stay behind
I never caught up
No, not in this life

When the familiar starts to sound unfamiliar and the same words don't have the same meanings because they don't come from the same mouth, you know it's gone. When you start to hate the sound of something you once loved to hear only because it doesn't feel the same and because it isn't the right sound, you know it's gone. When soft sounds to you feel like sharp words and pointy edges that hurt rather than feel good because they remind you of something that could have been instead of something that could be, that's when you know it's gone; love is gone.