I built my bones on his apology letter,
You built your bones on your parents’ decay.
We fell in love to the sound of their indifference,
I fell in love to the sound of its cliché.

I learned to walk to the sound of abstract chaos,
Became indifferent to the women he'd display.
Because the man behind the screen he doesn't answer
Once he's finished I promise you he doesn't stay.

They drilled holes into the palms of my hands,
Threaded string through the fractured bones and
As they pushed and pulled I didn't understand.
Never learnt a limit to the worst I could withstand.

So, let's welcome you all to tonight's show.
They clap their hands and bang their glasses on the table,
And they keep asking why we didn't say no,
They keep assuming that we knew that we were able.

And to be honest I'm not sure what I remember, any more than grey eyes
And manipulative hands.
And then again, I didn't want to surrender
And I'm not sure yet if I can.

If I can, if I can.
I can.

I guess I’m growing gardens of shame
Extradited in the parts that I was taught not to say.
Suppose I’d learnt to bear it either way,
Uprooting the sordid details, like some machoistic bouquet.
Something to really stick your teeth in, this chapter of my mind
Who cares about the epilogue? The abstract will be fine.
They’re untangling their theories, we ask because we care,
But you get to leave the theatre, I am still stuck in the chair.

And I wonder how I ended up there.
And I wonder how you ended up there.

So, let's welcome you all to tonight's show.
They clap their hands and bang their glasses on the table,
And they keep asking why we didn't say no,
They keep assuming that we knew that we were able.

And to be honest I'm not sure what I remember, any more than grey eyes
And manipulative hands.
And then again, I didn't want to surrender
And I'm not sure yet if I can.