STATUES ARE ASLEEP
The city's on lock, the world is over. In a big white bed I'm all alone. Tangled in my bed, clean and sober, it's hard to think, I'm on my own.
Big walls has turned into dust, all the bridges have been burn, can't feel the ground beneath my feet.
From my seventh floor window I can't see a single soul, the statues are asleep.
In times like this is when I think of you and I wonder if you ever think of me. Once this is over, and I see this through, I hope we get a second chance to meet.















