Could it be... Could it be, that you don't care Sitting there, with that empty stare Pondering, where you'd rather be Thinking about, everyone but me Feels like I'm, talking to a brick wall There is no life, in your eyes at all I've told you, everything I feel But still you sit, all concealed Your pulse is weak Your breathing's slow Your stare is bleak Your eyes don't show Any emotion Why can't you say What you're feeling Inside these days Or maybe you're, just a little tired Of hearing me, rant, rave, and conspire About everyone, that's ever hurt me Is that it? Could it be? Your pulse is weak Your breathing's slow Your stare is bleak Your eyes don't show Any emotion Why can't you say What you're feeling Inside these days Robin L. Swindler © 1996