The unanswered phone calls,
the unopened mail,
the half pack of cigarettes,
all witnessed the tale.

The half eaten sandwich,
the fully drunk scotch,
the out of date calendar,
the unticking watch.

The smell of stale sweat,
and the stains on the sheet.
The small empty bottle,
the drug store receipt.

This is the story,
of the unshaven guy,
alone in the bedroom,
escaping the lie.

I know that you can see me
because you turn your eyes away
and I know that you can hear me
by the things you do not say
How can we be so far apart
when I'm stood right by your side
Is there any chance you'd find me
if I chose to run and hide?
I feel just like a ghost sometimes
yet I'm the one that's haunted
by memories of happy times
not times by isolation taunted
My life is a frosted  vacuum
at least to me that's how it seems
where no one can see my tears
and not a soul can hear my screams

When you picture your paradise
what do you see?
A guy with a pen and a pad 'neath a tree?
or perhaps there are footprints
marked in the sand
tracing pathways of lovers
who walked hand in hand
Or maybe just maybe
there are sparks in the sky
from the bonfire beside which
we sleep you and I
When you picture your paradise
what do you see
for when I picture mine
I see just you and me

Another time, another place
perhaps then it would make sense
but for now its just too painful
watching you sit upon the fence
The timing was not ours to choose
for surely if it were
You wouldn't have to make a choice
nor I 'tween you and her
But choose I did and you I did
I give to you my all
but there you sit upon the fence
unsure which side to fall
And so I ask you one last time
who your choice is please just say
put us both out of our misery
and let the wounded walk away
Another time, another place
perhaps then it would make sense
perhaps then our paths would never cross
and we would keep our innocence

Life really is too short
for all we should have done
and how wrong it is we chose to walk
in the race we could have run
But we closed our eyes and turned our heads
when we had so much to see
A tale so truly tragic
is the one of you and me

Its snowing again,
but getting stuck here without you hardly seems fair.
A foot at least.
Like we always talked about, the wind howling down the chimney, snow drifting up against the door.
Pointless really.
Why have a good storm if you have no one to enjoy it with?
You should be here.
It should be all candles and brandy and a proper fire.
"Real flame effect" who are they trying to kid?
Not much use when the power goes.
What was I thinking?

When finally the end arrives
will it be a blessed release
will the turmoil of this life we live
be at last replaced by peace
Will I say goodbye with dignity
slipping slowly from the light
or will I be gripped by panic
from holding on too tight
I hope I have the courage
that I can show to those who care
so they remember me as being calm
passing in peace, not in despair.
There's so much I have left to do
so much more I have to say
when finally the end arrives
please let it not be today.