tell me if this is really how it's supposed to be.
there's withering flowers hanging from my ceiling that remind me of you.
i've forgotten my voice without you.
it doesn't have to be this way right?
the rain up the road follows me home and taunts me with thunder that makes me feel alone.
i see your face in my ceiling fan and when i'm trying to sleep at 4am,
i can hear your voice echo in my hallways.
tell me if this is really how it's supposed to be.