The stillness here,    like what he sometimes finds inside her,   hits so hard it can steal your breath forever.   He sometimes wonders    is the sum of their lives together   him on the floor and her lost to a mind in tatters.      These days he's drinking for the pleasure of falling   and he's falling for the pleasure of pretending   that she's sitting by the window waiting   for him to come calling.      If I could fix me up a week of twilight hours   we'd sit on the point    and watch the sun continually flounder.   Bathed in gold we'd plug into some kind of power   and connect with those days   back before all of this went sour.      'Cause I'm drinking for the pleasure of falling   and I'm falling for the pleasure of pretending   that you're sitting by the window waiting   for me to come calling.      Odd how the darkness always makes us whisper   and with the last of the sun    you can feel the approach of the winter.   Now is the time of each day that I    desperately miss her.   I suppose I will learn how to live my life without her.      So you're drinking for the pleasure of falling   and you're falling for the pleasure of pretending   that I'm sitting by the window waiting   for you to come calling.