The ink expresses my feelings, on life, love and why.
No one seems to pay attention unless i sing or cry.
Will i always have a song to sing, or a melody to carry?
Do these words really mean anything,
Or am i just sitting here staring at nothing.

You... your amazing. Your the song i sing.
Your my everything. You... you created me.
From the day i breathed you loved me.
And i see you in all things, and i know you'll always be.

To the guitar in my hand, to the people i can't stand.
To all the things that my blind eyes can's all about you.
What happen when everythings empty.
The void is growing deep.
And no one stays awaked to listen,
they just smile, then fall asleep...

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