I can't ever remember the things i want to say when I get my head straight but the room is empty. It's been that way for hours; guess the house is quiet for the night. I can't see the pretty things that hang in your room, above your head, where you sleep. What do you hear in the dark? Glass breaks; nobody hears it. Fell so slowly, just like wind snapping branches of the trees in your yard. I can't hear a thing now, the stars are shining much too loud at night. Words stay stuck in my mouth like a stain from red wine. You laugh over and over at all my useless phrases. I can't see the pretty things that hang in your room, above your head, where you sleep. What do you see?