As minutes turn to hours
And the hours turn to days...

Slowly, I sigh
I look up, I cry...

Emptiness
Clouds his soul, shrouds his mind...

If the world stopped spinning,
Would you save me...

The pain is marked across my face,
Like Sundays child who fell from grace...

I thought I had things under control,
I'm sorry for what I've put you through...

Why?
Why must you put me through this pain...

In the Devil's twisted hand
I lie, waiting for tomorrow...

A rotting carpet,
A tattered couch...

The quiet sobbing that I make,
Beneath the duvet of my bed...