What we have is the tale of a wrist
and a boy who was wondering why.
Or it could be the tale of a window
and the girl who wanted to fly.
It is the tale of a rope
from which the empty man hung.
Here is the tale of a knife
because the woman had songs unsung.
And this the tale of a bridge,
she wanted water to breathe.
This is the tale of a bottle
as he continued to drink and seethe.
Now is the tale of a pillow
used in the dead of night.
And also the tale of a neck
when he went too far in a fight.
Here is the tale of one more pill
her world was already a blur.
What we have is the tale of an empty world
because no life is ever sure.