Blackberry Torch Ad

Sunrise six o'clock and I'm still sleeping I don't have to work on Saturday But I do anyway 'Round the corner right on up through the shop I come creeping, but it don't matter anyway 'Cause I know it's just as well And even so I feel like hell You can say that it's alright But I am not that kind And I can see the forest through the trees I am on my knees I don't know if I'm supposed to stay Or if I'm supposed to leave it all Behind the door the world outside still spins Waiting there behind the door But I won't let it in Not today, not tomorrow, not next week You're just gonna have to pay five bucks to see the geek 'Cause I know it's just as well And even so I feel like hell You can say that it's alright But I am not that kind And I can see the forest through the trees I am on my knees I don't know if I'm supposed to stay Or if I'm supposed to leave Please draw your attention High above the center ring Up in the rafters Five hundred feet above the crowd My hair is soaked in kerosene My clothes are wet with gasoline You only get to see this once The human torch is going down Going down

I miss your smell and your style and your pure abiding way Miss your approach to life and your body in my bed Miss your take on anything and the music you would play Miss cracking up and wrestling our debriefs at end of day These are things that I miss These are not times for the weak of heart These are the days of raw despondence I never dreamed I would have to lay down my torch for you like this I miss your neck and your gait and your sharing what you write Miss you walking through the front door documentaries in your hand Miss traveling our traveling and your fun and charming friends Miss our Big Sur getaways and to watch you love my dogs These are things that I miss These are not times for the weak of heart These are the days of raw despondence I never dreamed I would have to lay down my torch for you like this One step, one prayer I soldier on Stimulating, moving on I miss your warmth and the thought of us bringing up our kids And the part of you that walks with your stick-tied handkerchief These are things that I miss These are not times for the weak of heart These are the days of raw despondence I never dreamed I would have to lay down my torch for you like this