It’s the sound of emptiness that has me beat,
the king of a golden empire turning to silver at my feet.
My self-worth depreciates with every echoed whisper,
it wouldn’t change a thing if I told her that I missed her.

I am not wanting of this crown of despair,
it has been a beautiful muse,
but there has to be something more, somewhere.

Written a thousand love songs, that’s a thousand suicide notes I’ve left,
killed myself to commit a paramour to paper, her love I haven't kept.
It’s the thought of that emptiness that haunts me from my sleep,
Will I run out of reasons to stay if I have nothing left to keep?

I am not wanting of this crown of despair,
It has been a beautiful muse,
but there has to be something more, somewhere.

It’s the dream of living that keeps me from defeat.
The belief there’s a place in time and space where again we shall meet.
When the calcified streams flow after years of desolation and decay,
she’ll be waiting in the river to carry me home, to carry me away.