Empty. but empty like a cup, waiting to be refilled again Empty like a long, dark corridor: in which a whisper roars louder than a hurricane
If only I could finally crack open that safe If only I could have lifted that weight, just once more, above my head
And maybe if I wouldn’t have ripped open my ribcage to show you my heart, I’d still have more left to give And maybe if I had all the answers, there would be nothing left for you to question
And maybe if I tore out the page and watched it burn, then maybe “maybe” would finally be erased from my vocabulary.