Without you the little pleasures of life are just placebos...
Nothing seems true, it's like I'm surrounded by some kind of mist.
I'm hanging through my life like a ghost.
I've been thinking about you all day,
Wandering if I should, or not, call you.
I deceided not. I guess I'm just a coward.
I don't even know what I fear.
I don't even know what would be worst:
If you didn't answer, or if you did answer,
I don't know how I would react to the sound of your voice.
I'd better avoid it, for my own sake.
I'll keep going on with my placebo.
Maybe sometime I'll get it right.
And the false will become true.
Maybe...
And hey, by the way, happy birthday... I miss you...