| This room is getting smaller
|
| The walls are closing in
|
| And I’m so bored with my own conversation
|
| The stairs to our bedroom
|
| Seem so much higher than ever
|
| Especially when you’re sleeping alone
|
| But I still have that painting
|
| We bought in Rome
|
| The one I hated and you adored
|
| Now I own
|
| There’s no you
|
| What’s the point without you
|
| There’s no you
|
| What’s the point without you
|
| My friends think I’m wasting
|
| My whole life away
|
| But I’m not the type to cry in my liquor
|
| I’ll do my crying in private
|
| And cry myself to sleep
|
| At least I won’t cry in public places
|
| But I still have that painting
|
| We bought in Rome
|
| The one I hated and you adored
|
| And now I own
|
| There’s no you
|
| What’s the point without you
|
| There’s no you
|
| What’s the point without you
|
| Some folks say it’s all about survival
|
| And wiping the floor with all your rivals
|
| But you were too bright and oh so full of culture
|
| And I prayed on you like a big old fat vulture
|
| Just circling high above your halo
|
| There’s no you
|
| What’s the point without you
|
| There’s no you
|
| What' the point without you |