She walks through white-walled streets
Gloved hands and blistered feet
She tries to see the day a little clearer

She tries to hold it all a little dearer

Writing letters, can't use pencil or pen

Colored crayons will have to do then
Hiding something, hiding from us
Or maybe from herself


Who's afraid of the big bad god
The wretched wretches cry

I'll take a step, then I'll take two back
And there but for me go I


Memory hits like shooting shrapnel
It cuts her arms up, cuts her self up
There's this need to be less than there is

This was a closing up

And all in awe it's all in all

A dream 'tween black and black
A game of chess that no one plays
Goes on behind our backs


This is not her life.


Shards of thoughts and hopes and dreams
She throws them to the air
She makes the best of her living life

Hoping someone will hear her prayer