(of lovers and wasted words)
...
The lover I couldn't love
He gave me his heart in a silver box and I kept the box and threw his heart away. Now he is in love with someone else and I am still where I have been for years, standing by the side of the road with a silver box full of guilt. He keeps his heart in a golden box now. He gives it to a golden girl and I am green. I am blue, I am grey with regrets. I am getting old and grey in this old and grey city and I can't remember the last time I was touched on purpose. The box fills with pain. I can't see my hands holding it anymore. The city is the only lover I have left and we are both each other's ghosts.
