I hope you're sleeping well Because I surely can't When you're gone it's hell This is just an exhausted rant About how much I miss you I'll fit right in with the so called poets Crying in writing and feeling blue Knowing that no one will know it But I'll drop another line About how my heart is on my sleeve And that I know I'm not fine Every time I have to leave I'm sure I'm stealing from someone Because all writing is a crime Everything has been said and done There is no new line or rhyme But I hope mine hits close to the heart Pulls out some passion hidden Lets you know I can't stand being apart And that every line is a gift given In good conscience and spirit I know my ears are ringing But do you hear it? All these recycled notes I'm singing?