I've seen the crying,
The slamming of the doors.
I know you're trying,
Doing it all like it's been done before
And I'm not denying
The costumes that we wore.
I know you're fighting,
Peeling it off until you hit the core.

Black is the light that shines on my path.
Black is the colour of freedom.

I've seen your crying,
Slamming all the doors.
I know you're trying,
Doing it all like it's been done before
And we called it fighting,
Sucking in the store.
I know you're trying,
Peeling it off until you hit the core.

Growing on attention as you stretch your span releasing what was hiding on the inside now erupting where you scratched it, start to bleed internally and as the pain results in screams you run for cover in a lie so old the dust on every page has turned to gold. Hold that thought. Relive it. Suck it dry. Connect the dots. Indulge yourself in the identity dissolve. Holes in all the filters and the shit is seeping through. All the things you called yourself and the things that they called you. It's fading in significance, it's lost inside a world that owes you nothing. Nothing of the kind. I stole this fucking line.