It's show don't tell why
against all the wasted nights
the radio spared us the conversation
as we carried the bags beneath our eyes.
those days only my hands
were kept warm
and now i struggle
to feel exactly what being warm
really feels like.
i'd like to think that the circumstances
have changed since then
but that's just another wish
that turned away with you.
of this you can be sure;
i'm tracing shadows into silhouettes
so at times like these
i'll never forget
the canvas i brought home,
the blood you drew and put on display
so that everyone has the chance
to see why i turned out this way