Behind a door
Hand to face
Conscience is the wound
His hand for me a sovereign tone
I pray [bad word] I pray him soon

There's a wolf in the piano
On the white keys
Teeth on the back
Dry bones under animal skin am I
No tears from this eye

I feel nothing
I hear no voice

Behind a door
Hand to face
Conscience is the wound
His hand for me a sovereign tune
I pray [bad word] I pray him soon