Constriction of fingers
Inside icy gloves
Conceal all the fragments
Of a stained glass loss
She lies breathless
I stand tortured
Rain beats down from the outside
But insides the oncoming storm
A red floor covered thick with wax
This is all part of the process
Swallowing all hate and fear
Feeding them myself loathing
The puzzle remains where it lays
A stained glass loss
This is all part of the process
Flies are combing the ceiling
They watch me work
Flies are keeping the secret
We're here for the same reason
