I'm not mad or crazy, at the emptiness of the glass
I believe things mean something when it matters not..
Your eyes for example, serve as a pool of hope
but is only when I'm drunk, that I wish them gone.
Gone from the darkness I call life, like a breeze of cold air
when you cry to me at night, and I listen during the day..
nothing keeps repeating in my mind,
a light shines through what I can only think is dust..
everything, I mean everything is falling apart,
only I listen to my heart.
I learned when I was dying, that life is short..
that nothing means everything, when you have lost.