Again I lay here in my bed, With hell
swirling inside my head. I dream of words you never said. It
makes me wish that I was dead. I wish that you could only know,
The way I feel deep down below. The things that words could never
show. The things that would make us both grow. These feelings are
too bold to write. Nor could I speak with all my might. Nor could
I show on any night. These feelings made of blinding
light.