This halfway house is home to a madman.
His ghosts, and his perfect song.
This year has been bruised and broken in so many ways that days have long since been abolished.
But If all of this could bring my love back to me...
I'd do away with the drugs and the drink...and the body count could cease.
I've sensed her here, but I know that we're destined to stay seperated.
...and this is all my fault.
For what it's worth.
It's worsening, and my song demands an ending...closure.
Karma can't control the beast.
I've born to swallow us whole.
Yes, my heart may beat again - but we all need medicine.
So forgive me, love, I'm choosing a fitting end to the abusing.
Last night, I leapt through the ceiling.
There was just something appealing about leaving my body behind and coming through as you circled overhead.
I said all the things that had been missing from the funeral that I had been forbidden from taking any part in.
You forgave me for everything while the victims of the song sounded their applause.
"The doctor has to go." was the last thing that you said as I found my body back in bed
...but then, i guess it's always been his job to fix this.