what do I do when you fall in my prison
holding your hand while you paint your face crimson
the blood on our hands will return to the source
seep into your mouth with no taste of remorse
join me with knees bent awaiting direction
adding my torture to your growing collection.
I'm used to the feel of cold empty space
and let all my goodness fall out of my face
you're full until bursting and new to this story
tangled with me in your first fall from glory
how can I help when your pain is my folly
singing aloud, I'm in love with your body.
silent the watchman observes the encountered
standing alone with a hat facing downward
joined in the watch by another the same
thrown to the left by steps into the game
how do I hold you, I'm already broken
how do we cope, I have pain left unspoken.
- I'd give you all of my oxygen. If only I still had any.