No use knocking at my door,
i don't think i live here anymore.
i live in the past you see
i think of the last time we were there
before you went with her.
All my letters lie unopened,
along with calling cards and tokens.
i cannot read, you see,
i think of the need to be by you now
if i could only move somehow.
The albums strewn without their clothes
gather dust amoung the grooves.
the only one i play is "blue",
it makes me think of you.