Little pieces of you, they **** me when I'm all alone.  The memories go rushing by in my head and all the questions of what might have been and all the "what if's" cut me down and I write bad poetry...
I lay there dying
A useless heap
I've lost my hands
I've lost my feet
I've lost my head
But still I weep.
Some friends call and ask if i want to meet up and go out, I say no I'm just going to stay in tonight.  And then I sit there all night... alone.