The low rumble
Brushing my window
Of the wind rolling by
Me feeling mellow

My movements are slow
That I don't deny
A vast storm
Blowing inside

I lie here
Thinking... Feeling
Of something more
More than just being

This emptiness shall consume my soul
Every last drop of my life
Spot the poor maiden
Crying inside

Listen to it blow
Watch it grow
No one knows
No one knows

Witness the horror
Of being yourself
Tell the tragic tale
That old book on the shelf

It's pages torn and dusty
Of a story told before
Read those words aloud
Of a person who is no more

Admit what your eyes may see
What your heart can no longer feel
Listen with your eyes
Maybe time is not real.