Rituals

There’s a knock at the door
It seems strangely familiar
As though I could perceive a strike on wood
But wait it’s not him, he can’t see me anymore
Or is it that I cannot see him

Is there music coming from down the stairs
Is it music or noise I don’t really care
There’s no one down there what can it be
Is his guitar in his room, I’d better go see

I think my eyes are open when my feet hit the floor
The only light from the night pours into my room
The rest is dark where the all seeing roam
What if I see him will I be happy or scared
My legs aren’t moving there’s a sense of dread

Look, no don’t look down the hall too his room
Go about your business and then go back to sleep
I wish to see him but then I’m afraid
What would I see what would I touch
What would I say

It’s been such a long time
But night after night I live this again
Unless I’m sleeping too hard from whiskey and gin
Can you live without sleeping or will you just lose your mind
It’s become a ritual these nights of mine

I would give all that I have or ever will
Just to tell him goodbye