you fold the fabric of your lie
and hang it up on a clothesline
to never wear again
while I sew the fibers of my pride
to cover me in the afterlife
to bury my own skin
and all you are is anonymous
and all I am is another one
as you roam the streets like it's your right
and break the windows to try and find
another for your sin
I paint my home on the outside
remind myself that I shouldn't mind
the color worn within
and all you are is anonymous
and all I am is another one
oh what I've become in the face of doubt
a seamstress mending a beggar's shroud
before I succumb to the thread I'm bound
I'll tear the life from your open mouth
lifeless like this, trying to pretend nothing happened
in fear that you'll walk into someone's garden
all while I lament that all they are is another one
oh what I've become in the wake of doubt
a seamstress rending a beggar's shroud
alone I succumb to the thread I'm bound
I find you rapt in a bed you found
if only not to fear you now
I tear the life from your open mouth and take it
I need to erase you...
and now can you see the color worn in me?
the more that you bleed, the more I am free.