Empty Is
Rod Mckuen
Empty is the sky before the sun wakes up
Empty is the eyes of animals in cages
Empty, faces of women mourning
When everything's been taken from them
Me, don't ask me about empty
Empty is a string of dirty days
Held together by some rain
And the cold winds drumming
At the trees again
Empty is the color of the fear
Long about September when the days
Go marching in a line toward November
Empty is the hour before sleep
Chills you every night
And pushes you to take me away
From every kind of light
Empty is me empty is me