That years have made so hard to read.
I've spent my life building walls
Brick by brick and bruise by bruise...
A birdcage religion that whispered me to sleep.
But time is spinning silk
With the devil's patience,
It binds my hands so quietly
That soon it becomes a part of me.
So soften these edges and straighten out my tie.
The hope that I have compromised.
Please be a broken record for me.