My heart just seems to be an empty tomb… and my self can only feel this cold dead blood. I may be a shadow that dreams with being something that could start to live… Am I fake?... am I made of something real? something that feels? My veins are still waiting that last pulse… that bleeding tear, just hoping to let it run away from me. But nothing will happen… I will be a ghost of that dream. And lost I sing to see if I can find those words I spoke using this cold voice… that time when my skin could feel a touch…