Full of Empty
Every day has the same old sameness.
Everything is old; nothing new.
My house is too big; all full of empty.
The day is bank full of minutes.
I spend each one, thinking of you.
The telephone rings too many times;
Pretty girls want me to come and play.
I sit and let it ring; I don't feel like talking
I know it's not you on the other end,
So, I don't have anything good to say.
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