feeling like these photo-scenes
your world is black and in-between
the paradox you call your life

you stop to cry
i picked up where
they left off and

held you 'til you
were alive and
now the room is mirror-tricks and dappled light

and if you walk away - i won't understand
you were like a work of art - that
had its canvas torn apart and

found itself an icon
in its disarray
i was just an afterthought

who practised everything he taught
but innocence can sometimes
be an enemy

every phase is something new
with your eyes away from mine
oh this isn't living proof

it's only borrowed time
i'm here waiting for you