In My Room In my room, way at the end of the hall I sit and stare at the wall Thinking how lonesome I've grown, all alone in my room In my room, where very night is the same I play a dangerous game I keep pretending she's late so I sit, and I wait Over there is the picture we took when I made her my bride Over there is the chair where I held whenever she cried Over there by the window, the flowers she left - have all died In my room, way at the end of the hall I sit and stare at the wall Thinking how lonely I've grown, all alone in my room Ending: by: José Duarte [email protected]
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