your laughter's still alive on tape,
your room's a shrine,
our home - a prison.
i keep on planning my escape,
but when i do, it feels like treason.
dust settles down inside my lungs,
can't bring myself to change a thing.
it always takes me by surprise
when i come back and you're not here.
your footsteps linger in the halls,
your touch is felt through every surface.
your life is spread across the walls,
your shadow waits behind the curtains.
your voice is still alive on tape,
your room's a shrine,
our home - a prison.
i keep on planning my escape,
but when i do, it feels like treason.