Dying House/Cold Death

"It's cold, it's dark My room, my soul Little hairy feet Scurry above me The phone is dead No bill was paid My soul... Is tatooed There is no word to say... There is no one to listen.....anyway I chuckle to myself... Maddly... I speak to those long dead I trust that they can hear me... No way to know... A cup of coffee... sounds so good... I sip my glass of wine My heart palpitates with lonely memories as my wife... I tilt my head, I scratch my crown... Is this to be my life? The black forest of despair Surrounds my cold cold bed I scratch my head I sigh in pain I sip my glass of wine Better to be dead, I thought But uncertainty holds me here... What does it mean... to me??.....