You eat breakfast alone
At a place you've never been
Fighting the lonely
With a scone
And a coffee

Making meaning from nothing
On the pages of your sketchbook
There are faces of no ones
or the someones you imagine

But the feel of your features
feeds the fear in his heart
Makes you think homes are
made of skin not steel parts

You could only imagine
that kissing felt good
You could only imagine
You were hoping it would
But nothing could prepare you
for the feeling of him
Nothing could prepare you
when you saw the lights were no longer dim