|
There was something in the envelope she passed him |
|
That weighed more to him than paper and some ink |
|
It had the hint of something darker and a hint of something sweet |
|
And a little extra glue right on the tip |
|
There was something in the pain that shot right through him |
|
As he climbed up to the place he called his home |
|
They say, every man's house should be his palace |
|
But his castle stank of cat shit and alone |
|
So he opened it and found a faded picture |
|
Of a girl, he's never met but somehow seen |
|
Like a memory of a dream from early childhood |
|
Like a virgin's idea of release |
|
She said, "I can bend my arms until they're backwardBut you can't bend your will to take in mineAnd I could hold my breath until next WednesdayAnd still be doing fine" |
|
He was sad in ways that he couldn't tell her |
|
Though she tried to make his sadness all her own |
|
He couldn't see the use in spreading sadness |
|
So he took his dark depression and went home |
|
She saw things in him that he never bargained |
|
But it wasn't enough to save either one of them |
|
Because she took all that sadness one step further |
|
And left him all alone to face the end |
