WITH NOTHING

It wasn't all it was cut out to be
This so called "affair" between you and him

There were no violins or roses to smell
Not even secrets that he could secretly tell

His friendly neighbors who lives down the street
Next to the filling station, Every time they meet

He asks about you: when are you coming home?
He doesn't know he cares. Maybe he'll just roam

The highway in search of the "ideal lover"
Who escapes his woven net, runs for cover

And loses himself to avoid the obvious

It isn't the solitude, the loneliness,

Or even the emptiness that bothers him most,
It's more where he went wrong as he coasts

And floats into infinity

With

Nothing.