Almost Made

You come dressed in shades of black
When I sit back and begin to slack
You don’t speak, nothing you say
But I want to be walking away

I look at the ceiling white
And think if I just might
See your face in every glare
Of the lovely chandelier

You seem to move your mouth
I want to scream and shout
Are you speaking a strange tongue?
Or is this the song we sung?

You say you wish me well
And you’d rather not tell
That sorry tale long forgotten
That bares my heart rotten

I close my eyes and sigh
But I wonder by and by
Why you came to serenade
When I had it almost made

Now all my joys are your alms
All my success a gift off your palms
All my grandeurs cascade
Alas! I had it almost made