I hear them whisper.
Those wicked words
I'm trying to take this steak
Knife from my back,
But my vision's going black.
My eyes are filled with tears,
From all the hurtful things I hear.
Like two sides of a coin,
I see one side before they flip,
And turn against me.
Best friends we have been -
Seems that meant much more to me.
Low words that hover,
Between lying lips and evil ears,
Across the air, and fuelling tears,
Slip through their fingers.
And I catch those nasty names.
They didn't say them yesterday.
That stop when I approach.
They hurt cause I don't understand;
Friends don't hurt your heart this much.
Not the one's I used to trust.