These walls know my past
as does the single malt in my glass
motionless in the eerie dark of a new moon
trapped in the darkness and apartness of you
drown myself in the spirits quicker
tired of hearing the walls whisper
your name
as if every chair's arms now point the blame
at the disheveled heap of the remnants of a man laying in the middle of the room
trapped in the darkness of an apartment I shared with you...