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, 
I´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