When you hear the words that sting the most, they ring an alarm that echoes inside of you
and a whirlwind of curses come crashing out.
What comes out as a tiny thought, carelessly thrown away,
cuts you like a sharp splinter straight to the heart.
You've learned to nurse the dull pain
till the scars hurt more than the stabbing.
You find yourself festering on a made-up deathbed
after planting the white roses for your grave.
So you sing that wailing lament like a lullaby whose melody I've learned by heart.
They'll warn me not to cast myself while you rage on,
and to find shelter from the violent downpour,
but I find myself crawling into the eye of the storm,
waiting in the silence as I dare to tame the tempest.