If I could only posses a bit of your warmth

But I never will

If you could only accept me as your last way out

But you never will

This house is desolate and sick; so sad and cold

It is mine

I fall apart every time I think of yours

Such inviting walls

The eyes are bleeding

The core is burning up

Bursting into tears

Alone on the floor

Accustomed to emptiness

As the beauty to sadness

And her world is getting dark; too dark

This endless meaninglessness

Is enfolding our thoughts less

Than the pretence of happiness

And her world is getting frail

Like A falling glass in slow-motion

Broken

Shattering skies

Have exposed our deepest and worst lies

And now the constructor is lost in error