Sitting by the window seat,
Holding a velvet guitar case.
His heart beats heavier with defeat,
And tears rain on his barren face.

He watches the road that's left behind,
And the smiles that make him cry.
The soulless bodies make him remind,
He made a choice of not saying goodbye.

Of all the things he saw in a dream,
The most he craved for love.
Then the clouds let out a gentle stream,
And drenched her photo in his glove.

Holding his broken red porcelain pieces,
The guitarist walks alone.
Over and over his heartache increases,
Over and over his hate has grown.