Living In The Past

James Mendenhall / The Prom

I left the furniture in the same place;
your things have long been gone, but mine still remain
I guess that I am living in the past
This time capsule in which I sleep is choking me fast... so fast.


In the mornings I wake up so tired and alone;
scared of the outside and conversations.
"is she well?", "how are you?", "are you feeling alright?"
I lie to everyone and say I'm just fine cause I don't want to talk
I just want to sleep: I can see her in my dreams.


Gazing for hours and old photgraphs,
she's beautifully standing there frozen in a laugh.
I know that I look awkwardly alone waiting so patiently next to the phone.
'cause i know when she calls I just might smile and live for a while.


this nightingale screams out every night.
Locked in a cage wishing to be next to your side.
I'd give up my voice just to hear yours in my ear saying,
"goodnight, sweetheart, just rest my dear"


I'm pacing in the living room.
I don't know what to say or do.
I'm waiting for your phont call and for the snow to fall in love with me for all eternity.

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