Postcard

I think it’s time that I got off the kitchen floor But is there really any point at all? Waking up this morning felt the same Better sleep while life is so mundane It could have been yesterday that I locked the door I blocked the windows up so I can’t be sure Now I haven’t even got the will to eat I’m lame and self-obsessed, that I will concede I’d like to light a cigarette but I cannot The lighter’s dead and the gas has been cut off I’m the one you always seem to read about The fire inside my eyes has long gone out There’s nothing left for me to say or do Cos all that matters disappeared when I lost you --- Postcard - Steven Wilson