There’s nothing left here, in this cold and empty room. It’s been hard swept clean and smells of bitter antiseptic. Every germ you’ve left, every wayward hair, erased.
The boxes were the first to go, taped and sent to journey in a big white van. And with them went the stories, one by one. Now, it’s just you and me in this big, lonely house.
So, pack it up and close it on down. There’s nothing left to see here. Only old memories, and silent rooms. Move it on, to those unfamiliar places, and the unknown on the other side. I know you feel like you’re freefaling right now. Your soul in desperate grasp, yearning for what’s ahead, and yet not quite free of what’s behind.
But there’s nothing left for you here. So, say your goodbyes now, and snap one last shot. Then take my hand and walk away. Because it’s just you and me now. You and me and the big, wide world.
And there’s nothing left for you here.