it takes me years [bad word] down to the door
the floor is strewn with glass and promises
i'd have to walk for miles [bad word] to dive into the water 

-your words they echo 
from here to the sea
sweet words shot from my favorite gun
my body's old from you 
and indecision
still at your door with seven knives inside 

you keep me here- 

you lock my doubts in your heart
you know my doubts by heart
my heart holds court to seven knives
seven demons in the night
give me freedom by the litre
freedom on a desert isle