Moving on

Don't tell me you love me,

Those words have died too long ago

And like burning pages...

Like burning pages they're thrown by the wind.

Comatose and entirely imperfect I stand in the doorway.

And there's nothing in this room to keep me still...
Storm clouds tear the sky apart,
And lightning pulls us down to the ground...
There's nothing left in me for you, my dear...
Moving on.