• This isn't you, just a ghost lost somewhere in the shell of your body...
    What you're doing is no excuse, no way to return to the cell you wish to stay confined within. You keep picking up that bottle and drowning yourself night after night, but forget that I watch this movie playing...frame by frame, sip by sip, you slip.
    I'll decipher this slur you've cast to me along the once playful phone-lines, and heel you back when you've accidentally ended the call.
    All the while, I'm staring out this frost covered window, waiting.
    Waiting for you to stop...and most of all, waiting for tomorrow, because tomorrow is the only day I'm willing to love you again...
    Because as long as you're corrupted, I talk to you only as a stranger.
    Still waiting, I find that the night repeats itself, and I begin to wonder if "tomorrow" will ever be different.
    Maybe I could lose myself in your eyes again, maybe we could walk along the shore and kiss like theres nobody else in the world but the stars, and maybe we could just sit together, thinking that there's nothing that can separate us...but today is not that day.
    I'm not sure if it will ever be.