The sadness is to much to Handel, on the couch of my humble home.
I'm listening to oldies songs, but sitting all alone.
There's only one thought running circles in my head.
If that's what it comes to, I'll die comfy in bed.
No one cares, and no one tries.
No one knows I'm dying inside.
I'm frozen and stuck, don't know what to do.
People have their own problems, I'm nothing new.
The agony builds, day by day
It's physical now, not going away.
I think of all of my favorite things, those I cherish and moments I favor.
Right now I believe that I would be fine to not see them again. To be gone forever.