There is a boy in the attic
pulling the wings of angels
his brain filled with static
hiding in the dark
waiting for the spark
that'll burn his whole world down
no one comes looking here
no one wants to find him
doesn't matter where hes gone
there is nothing to remind them
no one come looking here
no one comes looking
all he knows is
a slap is a touch
a punch is a touch
the hand that breaks and shakes is a touch
and nothing that he will do will matter that
much, because
no one comes looking here
no one comes looking
no one comes
all the wingless angels
surround him asking why
listening to him cry
in that old gray room
he dreams his name carved
on an old gray tomb
and no one comes looking here
no one comes
