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.