Texty: Nancy Sinatra. Boots. In My Room.

In my room
We're at the end of the harm
I sit and stare at the wall
Each day's just like the last
For I lived in the past

In my room
Where every night is the same
I play a dangerous game
I keep pretending he's late
And I sit and I wait

Over there is the picture
We took when he made me his bride
Over there is the chair where
He held me whenever I cried
Over there by the window
The flowers he left, I won't die

In my room
We're at the end of the harm
I sit at I stare at the wall
Hating how lonely I've grown
All alone in my room