me and a song and a twisted piece of glass
no mirror to reflect just bent truth from the past
i promised myself that there are enough who know this tale
but you keep asking for thoughts with that leveling stare

just a little more lucky than that girl over there
the one with the mussed lipstick and tangles in her hair
i wasn't her, i was the one out of grasp
but i could have been her, if i had been a little less fast

a little less right and a little more wrong
the fire was pretty but i leaned close far too long
physical burns are the ones, that everyone want to share
but the ones in my mind lurk guilty in catacomb lairs

dig in me deep
& scratch though my hair
come on my darling
don't you want to share
peel back my eyes
& look under my skin
see all the nightmares of
what should have been

tense in my mind, but no sign that i am ill at ease
your eyes pleading wide, you're asking me please
you still want to feel all the cracks in the glass
can you handle all the blood from the cuts you'll amass

i wasn't her, i was the one out of grasp
i would have been her, with a different truth in my past
sorry i am but glad should i be?
i could have been her, panties pushed past my knees

a little more wrong and a little less right
i should have been her, but i put up a fight
silent my words, i don't want you to be
compassion and pity: a wasting disease

i promised myself there are enough who know this tale
so you will have to wonder why my face goes so pale
me and a song and my twisted piece of glass
remains moving fast knowingly, just out of grasp