There is a little dark place
where I sit and wind up the music box
and sadly let it strum,
tears from each metalic thumb
legs crossed with dirty socks

smoke from the half-gone cigarette
don't want to get up in the morning
my dark little heart
since we've been apart
has given me ample warning

things will never be the same again
music box winds down to end
and I can't get up anymore
wanting to smash it on the floor
because the silence is the sound of war
given up, defeated, lost
I never really wanted to win
I would've paid any cost
for us to be the same again.