Sip slowly from the glass
Watch as the hours past
Be aware of the dying candle
Thinking of you is too much to handle
Why must the sky turn gray
When I need it to be blue
Why must the world come to a dead silence
When a simple sound for me will do
Why must the scent of ashes
Bring tears to my eyes
Why does the picture burn slowly
Why, oh why?
Yet I hold another picture
The original of the burned
And simply think to myself
What direction did I turn
For us to be driven far
from one another
I would rather be in your arms
And kiss your lips forever