Seems as if I am numb.
As the wounds have started healing,
I am left with no ink to write on old parchment,
No tears to stain the written words,
And no cuts left for me to lick the blood off.
Seemed as if I would only hurt.
As days have passed and gone by,
I realized that is the case only if you count them,
Not if you let time gently stroke your hair
And sing you lullabies for good night.
Turns out it is all a choice.
As the songs you sang don’t ring a bell,
I am done with empty words of a man I thought I knew,
No bed in a room in a house that you’d come back to
And Everything I Do, I’m Not Gonna Think Of You.