It's a weekday and I cleaned my room agian,   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, Id 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 agian.   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