I Haven't Locked The Door, Nor Lit The Candles, You Don't Know, Don't Care, That Tired I Haven't The Strength To Decide To Go To Bed. Seeing The Fields Fade In The Sunset Murk Of Pine-Needles, And To Know All Is Lost, That Life Is A Cursed Hell: I've Got Drunk On Your Voice In The Doorway. I Was Sure You'd Come Back.