There's cracks running in these walls,

this is the story of my life.

And as the highest stacked crash,

I lie in my deepest strife.

Your coldest text chills my sheets,

a fleeting goodnight.

I wish above all you were here,

I'll never be all right.

Correct me if I'm lying:

you've never turned to stone.

It must be your bright eyes;

please never leave me alone.

I couldn't say anything

but to paper I turn my thoughts.

Where I don't know what I'm thinking,

all logic here is lost.

My eyelids are made of iron,

and your will may be of fire.

If I sleep at all tonight,

the dreams make me perspire.

There's something in your tone like ice,

please end my senseless rambling.

When I wake I'll be at ease,

to you I will be scrambling.