One Game That I Wont Play. Frozen Phone Lines Missing March. Blessed Sound Asleep. It's A Tragedy, I Feel It Is The Misery That Keeps Me Coming Home And Lusting Is Proof, That Love Has Never Touched These Bones. Holding On To What Was Never Real, I Am Letting Go. Beneath A Window, Bought By Your Life, Lies A Body, Wishing To Become Real. Another Game I Wont Play. Spilling My Heart Simply In My Head When We Both Know We Are Back And Forth. Love Is Not A Feeling, It Is Movement. You Move. But What If I Were To Move, Would I Surprise The Purest White, We Underline To Breath Alive. Am I Missing Love? I Write This To You In The A.m., Wasting, Still Breathing, But Dying. Am I Missing Love?