nothing in the field from my broken window view nothing in my old brick house no love for me and you there s nothing in my arms but dirty paper plates and nothing in the look on your cold and distant face and the summer grass when the children rest and the flowers i recall meant nothing at all nothing in the way i tend to spend my nights and nothing in my words can help to make it right there s nothing left for me but the haunting memory of a time when i had nothing and you gave it all to me nothing in the record room nothing in an empty town nothing that i ll leave you but the keys to everything for they no longer unlock anything