I have begun to strain the black from the white
But I fear-- and this is an old fear of mine...

Sifting through the silence
I grasp your hands...

She bleeds so little
It hardly runs through the paper...

The angel closed her eyes
And whispered beneath her breath...

I wish I had a box
with a lid...

The disease is multiplying
Catching under your skin...

He ripped a heart from a swollen chest
Beat me down to nothing more...

I'm standing in front of a broken mirror
gleaming shards spread across the floor...

If I ask you a question
What song will you play...

Broken toys--
Stop falling on your toys...

Don't look back
all these faces...

The frost still eats away at my nose
And sits on my face like a bloody stain...