In a room suffused with light
I spend my hours waiting
Waiting for the nightfall
And I wonder if my life
Is blissful or appalling
If silence is my laughter
I hone my heart down to the bare bones
Down to the pieces that are needed to survive
And spend my life [bad word] on my own
As I don’t care about the whereabouts of love
The whereabouts of love
Is reclusiveness a curse
Or could it be a blessing?
wall against disorder?
While it shields me from the rain
It causes me to dry out
And counteracts my blooming
I hone my heart
Someday I’ll
I hone my heart
Someday I’ll
I hone my heart down to the bare bones
I need to survive
And spend my life [bad word] on my own [bad word] on my own