When love taps on your door, knock knock, who's there to answer it. Not not the ghost of a smile that flickered across my face. A calling card is left in my place, like an ace in the hole and your whole world is left spinning in a glass case. You could travel to the ends of the earth and still never find a witch clever enough to lift this curse. The looping verse repeats like a broken stereo, providing theme music for the cat that's chasing his own tail. And the tell tale glimmers of hope are just fool's gold dangling like karats on a rope.
I snapped the binds you tied me down with, and rolled off that track before the train hit. I escaped with my wits in tact, in fact, more than that. I gained some some wisdom and grew up fast. The empty flask is all that remains of the drinking game we played called drunk off love. We swayed together, struggling to find our feet, but I fell for it, if only because I refused to back down and would never retreat. So speak softly when you say my name, as reverently as a prayer for the clinically insane. These finicky, inane, pretty words that I'm saying are picked out like flowers to place on your grave. They're powerless to save themselves from having their petals plucked off, one at a time, and dropped on this page, like rhyme after rhyme. Watch me turn a blind eye to the pain you have caused. You cannot hurt me; I've dusted you off.