So, maybe now I'll take you to that little place inside my head,
Where silent voices repeat every single word you said.
On that same day, where in th morning, I told you what I'd do,
There was a loud crash that bore its blood-red afternoon.
But I swear, I checked the clock and it was only 7 after.
When I arrived, 13 years late, there was a girl who told me that her,
Only son of 4 years was losing all his breath.
And I tried my best to help 'til there was no life in that boy left.
That's when you appeared, so blithely, hanged across the room,
Your eyes as wide as my heart had opened up to you.
Then I remembered that boy, and sang to him, to his lifeless, little corpse.
His last words, to me, sounded something of yours:
"No, I'm really fine," but that's not always the case.
Still your eyes appear as blue as that boy's face.
I lit a candle for the both of you, but the flame was soon blown out.
Then a bottle rolled across th rom, and that's when I kneeled down,
To pick it up and read the message that had been tucked inside.
Something about saving someone, or telling them good-bye.
Now down the hall and across the ocean, there's a fresh noose to be used.
Something of death but integrity, something of you.
And reflecting back to me, from a bathroom mirror,
There's an impression of a face.
It seems so blurry, itself,
Hanging there with scars I just can't erase.
Each purple bruise reminds me of each hit that I endured.
And I'd tell you what I mean, but right now, I can't be sure.
I washed my hands of every pain I've cause,
And every death that I've endowed.
I'm too much aware of what I've done, but Pilate would be proud.
My lack of concern may disappoint a few, but it was fine for you,
And to whom it may concern: This wasn't intended for you.
So, now I have to take you to that little place inside my head,
Where silent voices repeat every single word you said.
