A lonely man lies awake in bed wondering; is there someone out there? Someone who will love and cherish him for who he is. The way he dances, romances, and even those silly glances. But where is she? Is she even there? So many stars and galaxies and energy--so many people.
Loved ones cuddle with one another watching the stars and hoping to see meteors go by, while I lay in bed with tears flowing from my eyes. They trickle down the side of my face, down my neck, down my chest, and settle in my belly button. It reassures me I can feel, although it is not the same as a lover's touch, the way it makes you tingle as you mingle--causing your heart to race and your breathing to get heavy. A sign of sex, horniness, and energy. A meaning of life's true treasure, but still...I am a lonely man lying awake in the dark. Tears flowing from my eyes and a sense of nothing flying through my mind's sky. I am numb and care free. All I want is someone to lie here next to me...
What's in store on this December night? Another lonesome tomb. A sure thing needs to be laid to rest. I am depressed as hell, under a spell, and stuck in a swell--spinning. Who's winning? Not I. For I have lost meaning in meaning. I cannot feel. Family ties ripped to shreds and all I do is dread. What I am doing here? Why do I share when I have barely enough? Why do I care? Because you taught me how to take care of those who're less fortunate. However, sometimes this tainted rage takes over and I break out of my cage. Why me! All this dread unannounced--people don't know, but why do I feel they must. I have a great deal of trust, but can't seem to put it to good use. On this December night I can't forget you, Dad. I loved you with all my heart and knew you were so smart. As my eyes glisten like the snow as it swindles through the air and melts on my face, I am unable to move. I'm left broken hearted. I am without reason and pampered by defeat. However, even though I hate life, I keep on moving.
Here are my farewell words as I shed my wings, only to grow new ones--ones that don't sing. For Christmas was over in my book when Christ took the one thing a son needs most. I raise my drink for a toast for this is almost the time where I cross over. Change my ways and throw away my cage. So many words and so much crime; another scotch and another line.