I picked up the phone,
To call someone I used to call home.
The music would slide through,
Filling the barrier of the empty room.
Please pick up.
I know what you'd say,
The music would still carry on,
When eventually it'd all be gone.
He knew it were me,
But why wouldn't he just see?
I sat thinking for a few hours,
As my mood grew even more sour.
Music flew a loud,
As my eyes covered with these small clouds.
"Merry Christmas pumpkin head",
Thats what my Dad used to always say.
Before the five years,
When non-existent were these tears.
That was my present,
Which I found the most of, pleasant.