In books lies the soul of the whole Past Time: the articulate audible voice of the Past, when the body and material substance of it has altogether vanished like a dream.
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Breaking My Heart
I'm on the floor
Counting one minute more
No one to break the silence
Staring into the night
All alone but that's alright
It's the feeling deep inside I don't like
[Chorus]
There is no excuse my friend
For breaking my heart
Breaking my heart again
This is where our journey ends
You breaking my heart again
Here in my bed
Counting the words you've said
They linger in the shadows
Coming home late at night
Drunk again but that's alright
It's the look in your eyes I don't like
[Chorus]