[Music & lyrics - D. Ott]
A face with no emotion
Lost in the television's glow
He's slipping into darkness
Not far from comatose
With a bottle in his left hand
A cigarette in his right
He's drowning out the echo
Of voices in the night
Through the conversation
The old me drifts away
Hiding from the moment
I long for yesterday
I hear your voice so distant
Calling out my name
If only I could answer
If we were still the same
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