Inside the meaning of drought, The old waters shimmer. Inside the meaning of death, The old poets turn in their graves. Inside the meaning of exile, The old gods pace in their prisons.
You’re a vampire; But not for blood, no. You take the air from my lungs, And use it to keep you going. And I never thought you would take it all, But here I am with nothing, And there you are with everything.
When all your demons are dead, Who are you? When all your wrongs are righted, Who are you? When all your words are taken back, Who are you? When all your candles are lighted, Who are you? When all your enemies are defeated, Who are you? And who am I?
What’s on your pretty, pretty mind? I should know but I’ve become blind. If I look, what will I find? Our feelings used to be intertwined. I’m here through it all, When you feel big or small. Your tears are rainfall; I hear them from down the hall.
Am I going toward you or away from you? Will I see you in this life? Will I see you in the next one? Or is this the end? Maybe I’ll see you someday, But who will we be by then? Will you still love me? Will I still love you? I hate this not knowing. I hate this missing you.