As I sit, here alone, in this empty room,
I think of what we were,
I think of what we could have been.
When I walk, all alone, down that night time street,
I think of where you are,
I think of what you are doing.
Here I am, laying alone, sprawled out in my bed,
I think of where you once were,
I think of my emptiness within.
I am alive, alone, living without warmth,
I think of my inner scar,
I think of my undoing.