I've been so afraid, my love,
I must confess so afraid
I've given in to this sickness of invisibility
I exist now only in a memory
I fear the simplest things like waking from a dream
I view myself as an old friends 
Whom I once loved but no who is dead
And I just can't face my own grave, 
Wilted flowers in hand, 
Mourning something I have quite lost yet.