Cold and alone, he's away from her. Beside himself because there is no one else for him. He's blinded by this, so even God can't help him find the light. He should just drop it, leave it behind. He can't hide in his dreams, he probably dreams about her all the time. He sees her everywhere he looks. He remembers exactly how she sounds. He remembers exactly how it feel to touch her...he's losing her...so so losing her.
She must have hurt him, leaving him frail and dry. He could drop his hurt if only he could lie to himself. There's no point in crying. He's got to put his pain behind him and start to make it alright. He's got to fly away, leaving his anger behind. He's got to go back, with red in his eyes. Its not the red of anger...its the red of sorrow and loss and forgiveness and regret...he'll never forget how beautiful she is. He'll always know just how she sounds. He'll always remember how it feels just to touch her.
He's got to go get her. Fight for her...but how? I don't know how to fight for her...I've got to fight for her...