I don't preach but I'm a blade
cutting through concrete borders. Who's to blame
for the ache in my spine?
I'm only half-human, I'm only half-alive.
But who's to say that there's nothing to say?
I'm living a blue life in a dull crusade.
A second chance to be your dream
is an idle masquerade in your heart's machine.

But if only I were lucky I could learn to paint my name
along the gravestone in your backyard. Remember me?

I'm just a girl made of stone
with a heart to give and a page to own.
My words are weak but my pen is weaker
so point your gun between my eyes, extinguish another dreamer.
And if only I knew how to breathe, I'd learn to paint my name
along the gravestone in your backyard before I hide away.
Will Heaven open palms for me or is grace only a game?
I'm a fighter and a lover losing battles every day.

I'm more alone with each minute passed.
I'm short on tears to spare and shorter on cash.
This is a song for poets who scream
into the same pillows where they lay their heads to dream.

And if only I were stronger I cold learn to paint my name
along the parchment, beneath "I'm sorry, but I'm not okay."