Rains falling like that day,
soaking the chill in my bones.
Thought my feet knew the way
but they got bloodied on the stones.
Creak goes the lonely door
that opens into dark places
surrounding the painted whore
sitting draped in red lace,
cheap perfume gagging me.
Hours later you see my face.
Donít fucking tell me you donít see
me dying by degrees.

Eyes closed, walk to the well
Pull the rope, soul to sell
Waters lower, its going dry
Carry it to market, oh my my
I donít know why
Today I try
No tears to cry
Gather round the graveside
Of this slow motion suicide

Bind these arms and remove this heart,
transplant my trust and replace with fear.
A recipe for whatís torn apart
just to smear the ink on another year.
And so tick tock, tick tock,
keeping time with shuffling feet
as the seasons change, the pendulums swing.
Learned I can change the face but not the clock
and that happiness is never a sure thing.
Years later you see my face
Donít fucking tell me you donít see
me dying by degrees.

Head low, walk to the well
Scrape the bottom for something to sell
Waters lower, itís almost dry
Carry it to market, oh my my
I donít know why
They said to try
While they all cry
Gather round everyone
To see this slow motion suicide