She says she don’t need that kind of man.
All I hear is the alarm sounding, it’s 7 AM.
It’s a cold morning here, breakfast is served.
I watch what I do because I don’t want her to yell.
The last thing I need on my mind is trip back to hell.
We’re both visitors of this time and space;
we share some memories of this quiet empty place.
A long time ago this garden was beautiful.
It was full of life, joy, and everlasting love.
Who would have known it would become paradise lost.
One day when this sojourn is over.
Will she speak of me, will I be just another?
These memories are all I have of a fleeting youth.
Maybe I’m still running, trying to hide from the truth.
When I return home, I’d like a memory to tell,
but all I have are lies, nothing good to ever sell.
We’re both visitors of this time and space;
give me more memories, not this empty place.
