What treacherous minds do conceive,
Through the trenches of the fear and of the lie.
One deep look into thine own eyes, perhaps you too could believe,
That within these ladened lips you may only hear me cry.
Here's to my utter silence, and to being always still.
I'll remain emotionally blinded, and forever at your heel.
Try not forget my words, those times past; my spoken will.
Perhaps it was only you who knew how this would feel.
With sorrow I'm out to walk.
With time they'll stop to talk.