One late night last year in May;
May the twenty-third...

She stood and looked down at the sea
Decision made in count of three...

There in the back deep depths of my mind
Lies a woodpecker tapping...

Get out of my heart; get out of my brain
I need you to leave me...

Though I may be young
and innocent in self...

Tortured Soul
I’m weighed down by a tortured soul...

Frozen and wide-eyed, I stare down the hole.
Part of me wanting to fall...

She grasped the edge and pulled on up
her fingers bloody stained...

Set aside a rose for me
upon the dusty shelf...

You enigma and fake,
you're breaking my heart...