Talk to me, not about where you've been Or about your long night of sin, For I know you lie as day is night And it matters not if all the light, Falls upon your senseless shame, Or who in life, that you can blame.
I sit here in the chair
with my hands to my head.
I wonder why, in this land
that fate brought pain to thee.
I relish every moment,
we have in this, our life
and dread the day that it' gone
for you are my inspiration
of what I now do.
What will I be without you?
I feel the pain lodged in my head
are of anguish and the dread
of worried concern; what must be said
about the future of the days ahead.
I must stay healthy and care for you
even if it's the last thing I do.