metaphorically i’m a whore

denial number four
on the eve of a day that’s forgotten and fake,
and the trees they await and clouds antic-p-te,
the start of a day when we put on our face,
a mask that portrays that we don’t need grace,
on the eve of a day that is bigger than us,
but we open our eyes ’cause we’re told that we must,
and the trees wave their arms and the clouds try to plead,
desperately yelling there’s something we need,
i’m not free, i asked forgiveness three times,
same amount that i denied, i three-time mvp’ed this crime,
i’m afraid to tell you who i adore, won’t tell you who i’m singing towards,
metaphorically i’m a wh-r-, and that’s denial number four.

i’ll stay awake,
’cause the dark’s not taking prisoners tonight.

why am i not scared in the morning?
i don’t hear those voices calling,
i must have kicked them out, i must have kicked them out,
i swear i heard demons yelling,
those crazy words they were spelling,
they told me i was gone, they told me i was gone.

but i’ll tell them,
why won’t you let me go?
do i threaten all your plans?
i’m insignificant,
please tell them, you have no plans for me,
i will set my soul on fire, what have i become?
i’ll tell them, you have no plans for me,
i will set my soul on fire,
what have i become?
i’ll tell them,
i’ll tell them,
i’ll tell them,
i’ll tell them,

please tell them, you have no plans for me,
i will set my soul on fire, what have i become?
i’m sorry.