My mind is tired
Like a barren land
Nothing grows
And words don't rhyme
Except for silence who loves time
An artist I think
Has left me with nothing but an ink
Write verses to keep
And to dream in my sleep
An artist I think
Has left me with nothing but a glance
A spark of hope for another chance?
An artist I think
Has left me with nothing but a touch
An aching stroke to my weary heart
An artist I think
Has left me with nothing but a spell
Enchanting, and I have never been the same
My mind is still tired
And the artists's love is all I ever want