To find you awake by your windowsill. I broke down in horror at you standing there. The glow from the moon shone through cracks in your hair. I shouted with passion, "I love you so much" but feeling my skin, it was cold to the touch. You whispered "where are you?" I questioned your doubt but soon realised, you were talking to God now.
You've got
blood
on
your
hands.
I know it's mine.
I just need more time.
A requiem played as you begged for forgiveness. "Don't touch me!" I screamed. I've got unfinished business.
He catches raindrops from his window, it reminds him how we fall. Raindrops from his window, making puddles in his hands. He sees how quick the water's rising as another raindrop lands.
You talked me to sleep that night. I hadn't felt that sad in years. Your eyes like glass mistakes, they moved me close to tears. You speak those favourite fables which I'm yet to live and casually confirm my fears that I've got nothing to give.
I wish I could say that I've got no regrets but saying that would be one more to pile on my desk. I wish I could say I've clung to time like gold...
And I lived on the right side, slept on the left. That's why everything was love or death.
Close my eyes as my hands shake and when I see a new day. Who's driving this anyway? I picture my own grave 'cause fear's got a hold on me. Yes, this fear's got a hold on me. Yes, this fear's got a hold on me.
You are a dozen to the project, with a galaxy of questions and all we heard was lies about the truth. No choice but be obedient, like prisoners of war, caught on the wrong side of morality and youth.
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