held captive by torturous whispers

we are ghosts of truth, you and i

time has stained our shades of secrets

sober nights it hurts to be alive

but you seem to be doing fine

and i'm tired of trying to make you cry

with fierce conviction play your role

the now and then you leave your hole

while i sit trashed in my room

trying to dust your footprints off my soul

and sleep will not come to the stench

of the shit in which i roll

and forgiveness dies in the silence

of everything i could never say

this wall gets harder to conquer

with every bitter brick we lay

my side, with it's restless nights

and mornings that, without you, dawn grey