Stand by.

Welcome in the white noise,
Care not about the cost,
When all is mute,
I can’t compute,
So transmission may be lost.

Muse.

‘No one has ever loved me’ he said
‘My tears speak a story that words never said,
and my heart is a ghost – that I’m certain;
its dead,
because no one has ever loved me’ he said.

Turn away.

In times of need or in my greed
I turn to you, I turn to you
I think I bleed but do not need
To turn to you, to turn to you
I find you there in my despair
And turn to you, I turn to you
You do not care but still I dare
to turn to you, and turn, I do.

Mr. Nobody

Wake up being nobody
And have nowhere to go
An empty life with space unknown
And days that pass too slow

Lay down being nobody
A repetitious ghost
Swallow down those empty dreams;
The ones that you fear most

Imagine being nobody
And watching life decay
Empty faces, silent voices
Live for yesterday

Tomorrow I am nobody
A man, but nothing more
My journey rolls along the waves
And ends up on the shore.

The some of our parts.

Some are meant to have lovers
Some are meant to have none
Some have had more than hot dinners
Some never even find one
Some find without ever looking
Some have no room in their hearts
Some hearts are routinely broken
Some, just a bundle of parts
Some live a life that’s fulfilling
Some only wander alone
Some float through love, as if driftwood
Some will just sink like a stone
Some never look back regretting
Some look ahead with such fears
Because some eyes will capture a lover
And some eyes will only shed tears.

Christmas presence.

I will not decorate a tree
No Christmas movies on TV
No family there, in fact, just me
Another lonely Christmas

No festive cards out on display
No wrapping paper torn away
And Christmas music; none will play
On this, a lonely Christmas

No Christmas meal with joy and cheer
And the only Christmas spirit here
Will fill my glass, and make new tears
Until it is not Christmas

The merriment of yesterday
Was cut short when you went away
So, celebrations? Not today
We think of you this Christmas.

End of message.

I’m not saying he has intimacy issues, but the most affectionate he ever gets is via Whatspp.

I heart London.

London, when I met you you,
how I loved you from the start
But I leave with broken memories
and fragments of a heart.

Banking on it.

They wonder why he sits alone
And why he’s so forlorn;
No love interest –
And what says that best
Than a heart that’s overdrawn.

Nothing. Nowhere. No-one.

Tell me; what am I going to do?
Nothing. Stay in bed ‘til 2.

Tell me; where am I going to go?
Nowhere. That’s the place I know.

Tell me; who am I going to see?
No-one. Always only me.

Tell me; isn’t it always the same?
Nothing. Nowhere. No-one.