Conscious bleeding, lying, crying for relief I was lost that day you opened Your warmth, a home, a blind escape False discretion, I've seen this place before An accessible amenity of sorts Sought not for personal gain Nor products of strained progression But every time I'll play the swine And bank all I have to test the lie When time is subjected pain Lost to hope of an old confession With bloodied strings on hearts divine All known before this curt reprise