Vacant much like unused time,
Head that pounds to an unkempt rhyme,
Chilled to the bone have we become,
When misery has grown to be our unsung song.
How have I learned to be this way?
To tell the truth I dare not say,
For the truth is still a lie,
And for what remains inside will **** not I.

A chest abounds heavy in guilt,
Oh how I wish for no one to feel what I have felt,
Lungs cry hoarse in desperation,
What can you do when your last love, was your only inspiration?
Songs for shattered thoughts and piece of mind,
We have learned much about taking up wasted time,
Wasted time is merely an illusion,
Something like this can only add to today's confusion.