It's a weekday and I cleaned my room again,

of endless moments I thought we once shared.

An open book, read every single page.

Naive enough to think that help is on the way.



Rise and shine a day awaits,

watching clear skies turn to grey.

It's a dead end road and I want out,

there's no return.

Let me know when will it end?

If only you were my only friend, IÂ'd be fine.



A direction split right from the start.

I'm picking up the pieces to this broken heart.

Move over and make room for someone else.

Mabye a smile will find itself right on your face again.



Another empty sleeping bag. A broken speaker plays out loud.

An Elliot Smith song for those who can't move on and on.

A tour to write you home about of how I'm doing. Pretty sad.

You're not here and all my letters are lost in the mailbox for good