I've been working for days,
Cleaning out my autistic tomb,
The veins in my head,
Have began to pulsate in gloom,
I have to break out,
But it's nice to be alone,
Till I need to call out,
To find the girl who sang that song,

The things in my heart,
Have clouded my inspirational views,
I can't think straight,
Sometimes I'd find myself wishing I would loose,
The ink in my breath,
Comes from me sucking on my pen,
The paper is dry,
And I can't find the words again,

This is a love song,
I know it seems a bit tired,
But this is a love song,
Till my love does retire,
It's just that I've lost all my fire,
So this is a love song;

I opened my eyes,
Just to see if the dark was still here,
But the light from my window,
Blinded me and filled me with fear,
As I jumped back in my chair,
I fell down onto the floor and cried,
The strangeness of light,
Had caused me to sometimes wish that I had died,

It had started to give pain,
The emotion I had drained,
And all I could do again,
Is suck on my now dry pen,
Swallowing my tears there and then,
Rubbing my wrists again,

Rubbing my wrists...

This is a love song,
I know it seems a bit tired,
But this is a love song,
Till my love does retire,
It's just that I've lost all my fire,
So this is a love song;

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