I watched them out my windows, I'd wondered if they'd seen me crying black tears of lonelyness, watching them be happy.
I talked to them through glass, pretending they were listening, to my words of pain and fear.
I played they were my foes, I played they were my lovers,
But never once did i imagine to be close to all these others.
One day they came a knocking, and all I did was cry
So the door thay pressed open, as they backed up at the sight.
Ripped and tattered curtains, and a painting made of blood,
A tiny row of kernald corn, and a girl left so unloved.
The bent down to grasp my hand, and I screamed with all my might,
'til one of them assured me, that it would be alright.
So I looked up innocently, as the tears became a grey,
And I told them that I loved them, and their faces looked dismeyed.
I tried to hold their bodies, hoping they would hug me back,
But they just pushed me down, acting like they were attacked.
They left again that I suspected, as terrified as could be,
But i guess that's what you get, when contact is with me. |
