| With the door closed, shades drawn, the world shrinks. |
| Let’s open up those blinds. But someone has to sweep the floor, |
| Pick up her dirty clothes. That job’s not mine. |
| Now that everyone’s an enemy, my heart sinks. |
| Let’s put away those claws. |
| I don’t blame them for their curtain-calls because I pulled the rope. |
| I wanna call them back out for applause. |
| Spring and Thompson on the first of May is horrible. |
| We hid in catacombs. So now I’m sleeping next to mousetraps, |
| In a bed of all our clothes, while I hope that she won’t come home. |
| It was easier to lock the doors and kill the phones than to show my skin, |
| Because the hardest thing is never to repent for someone else, |
| It’s letting people in. |
| Well, you can come inside, unlock the door, take off your shoes. |
| But this might take all night, |
| To explain to you I would have walked out those sliding doors, |
| But the timing never seemed right. |
| When your helicopter came and tried to lift me out, |
| I put it’s rope around my neck. |
| And after that you didn’t bother with the airlift or the rescue — |
| You knew just what to expect. |
| That with the door closed, |
| Shades drawn, we’re dead enough. |
| They don’t open from outside. |
| And someone has to speak with their teeth behind their tongue, |
| To never let that right be denied. |
| We can’t rely on photographs and visitation time, |
| But I just don’t know where to begin. |
| I wanna bust down the door, |
| If you’re willing to forgive. |
| I’ve got the keys, I’m letting people in. |
| Don’t be scared to speak, |
| Don’t speak with someone’s tooth, |
| Don’t bargain when you’re weak, |
| Don’t take that sharp abuse. |
| Some patients can’t be saved, but that burden’s not on you. |
| Don’t ever let anyone tell you you deserve that. |