More times than five I've been right here by your side.
Still wondering... where did you go?
Walk down the hall in a mental menacle;
Don't want to be 'round when you take yourself out.

But I have more vigour than this.
Step to the plate to swing and miss.
And it's [bad word] life,
When how you live is how you die.

Looks like your soul is connected to a wall.
photograph stands by the bed,
Of better times, when we [bad word] with our spine,
But lived the next day, and put the malice away.

And that's when I noticed the drip,
Ignored the line that didn't skip.
It seemed the blue suburban sky
Turned to grey, polluted night.

So now you sleep inside this space,
bed of roses that thorns replaced.
No more sleepless nights.
Just for me, but as for you, a memory.