I'm growing sick to be alone
I'm sitting vacant in my home
though I don't know you well at all
I thought I'd force myself to call
but when I try to talk to you
it seems I'm never getting through
and though I'm trying to be myself
it always sounds like someone else
My life's the ticking of the clock
My life's the phone that never rings
My life's the door that never knocks
My life's the girl I couldn't bring
And when the silence gets too loud
the tv keeps me company
It's light will shine across the room
the records, books and magazines
While these things accumulate
I guess that love will have to wait
It's my material barricade
for blocking out the absence rays
My life's the girl I couldn't bring
My life's the door that's always locked
My life's the phone that never rings
My life's the ticking of the clock
A true hidden treasure of a song writer. This gent has been capturing songs in demo form on old tape recorders since the 80s. . . and he's still capturing his magic sounds in his secret basement. Damien Youth