My soles are worn. My soul is flagrant.
I cured your ailment with my own inhalant.
You breathed me in. I choked in silence.
I buried your fragrance with countless vagrants.
My bed is full. My heart is vacant.
When it came time for my bereavement
There was no mourner, only a patient.
I thought I cured your ailment.
But it turns out to be that you were the assailant.
You shot right through me,
But the pain was the only thing that knew me.
As the tissue breaks, the shards start to divide me.
How can you move on while the pieces move inside me?
Still, I refuse to remove the wounds you gave me.
And the doctors say there's no other way to save me,
But if I already lost you don't go on and save me.