When I breath, I breath you. A tired man. A substitute 
of what he used to share with me.
A hasty grasp, a lonely view, on a predictable end. A 
never ending chase for bliss.
Left him tired and worn out.
It gets him how he always should have been.
Tired and worn out.
What is there after you? Why is this haunting you? How 
much inside of you?
Where is the youth in you?
I'm your empty head. Just lay it down in my bed. Open 
wide, you're force fed.
We are our ghosts.
As if we had another life (and in the end we're still 
alive).
We are our bones. As if we had another skull (and in 
the end we feel nothing).
Looking back, down below. Can't find myself. It never 
showed.
Times the tie. That binds our eyes.
And we may never come to meet the silence that is in 
our open mouths.
And we may never come to meet the loudness that is in 
unspoken words.
And we may never come to meet the sharpness that is in 
our silenced tongues.
And we may never come to meet the coldness that is in 
our open arms.
And we may never come to see the tremors that are in 
the gift of doubt.
And we may never come to meet that our sweetest 
passion's not the one we found.
And we may never come to meet desires that are out of 
our hands reach.
And we may never come. So it cuts its way to the heart.
And I tear all my doubts apart. And I disarm there for 
you. It is done.
The ‘ME' is gone.