It's time I put this elementary side of me to bed
For my will has been marked, shared, and read
But you can bury my whole body
But leave my right hand to me
Whoever wrote this confession down
As delayed as it maybe
This mirror is more than chrome
Soon enough you'll be no more than stone
And darling please be my own
For I will build you up bone by bone
But yours they're polished and stoic, encased
Deceased, braced, and tightened. They are fake (So what the hell does that say of your grace?)
And I'm not sure that you have ever been (in any place that proves your innocence)
I don't have a thing to prove to Charlotte until spring
This mirror is more than chrome
Soon enough you'll be no more than stone
And darling please be my own
For I will build you up bone by bone
