It's too cloudy, again, to see the stars.
And if there's one thing about me
I can't say hello without a tremble
I can't say goodbye and reassemble
I don't know what that says about me.
But I still stare out the window hoping you really didn't leave.

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We are the tin men
never the thin men
we walk in lines
within confines
never to weep
seek emortal sleep

The other day
I happened to see a friend
who had passed away.
It was not until I saw him
had I realized,
I no longer cared for him.
I had been busy living
and after all these years
he was still the same.
How does one explain
to a dead friend
that people change?