Don’t go, friend? It’s going to come to you, friend, but please don’t rush to the end. Let me help you make amends, does your closet hold a place for another man? Don’t restrain, just blow your hands on my face, let me endure and let me deflate, but please don’t blow your bedside lamp.
The hornets hover over your head, but it’s soon to rain, grab my hand out of disdain, I know you feel so great a pain it fills a thousand lanes, empathy doesn’t exist, but I know you still are someone’s sane, so for their sanity and for my inks’ sake, don’t blow your bedside lamp.