Little bird, spread your wings
Bless my ears with your soft song...

The pier is cool and welcoming
As I tug the rope...

My wings, you severed them
tool the blade to forever condemn...

The shackles return
And bear the memories...

Why, I ask you, do I stay?
May I be the masochist that I claim...

I may kiss your cheek,
I may hold your hand...

My clock has ceased its obnoxious ticking,
It has yet to echo once more...

Raggedly breathing
As I stare at the razor...

The silence looms around my shaking silhoutte
As I stand, barely, against the wall...

Who's to blame, who to shame?
You, siren, you caused the pain...

We feel the heat breathing upon our necks,
The flames licking at our skin...

I wake every hour during the night
And write down each dream...