I'm not asking for forgiveness, that ship sailed long ago
Widow haunts into the afterlife.
And I'm not sure if it's reactionary.
The claw marks up my back; they're a warning sign.
They're scars for a reason.
When will I see you again?
How many sleepless days and nights?
Give me a figure
Give me something to hold on to.
You render tears, they're useless but well meant.
Through the sparks that hurt my eyes, there's a brightness, there's a star: a variable.
And what if I can't let go?
And what if I can't let go?
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