Lonesome are the wordsnthe words I think to myself since you said goodbyennLonesome are the dreamsnthe dreams that you lay shattered on that distant nightnnLonesome are the tearsnlonesome go the yearsnlonesome are the waves goodbyennVultures in the skynready to pounce down on my corpse one daynnCultured are the booksnthe books that you left rotting by our poisoned bednnRuined are the cropsnthe Oxon hang aloftnlonesome is the swirling windnnLonesome are the tearsnlonesome go the yearsnlonesome are the waves goodbye