It�s late at night
You�d think my heart
would speak a bit
But she�s so quiet
Even as I listen
I can barely hear her beat
There is torment
My dear friends
And I am unhappy
In this little death rattle
It�s my own hand
That squeezes her to shut up
As the other wipes the tears
From this killer�s face
I will mourn for her
As I rejoice in the peace
But she holds on
In a way that makes me anxious
And secretly thankful
