I can feel a rip in my heart
And that sinking feeling
As it moves underneath the worn out soul
Of my boot to be trampled.
I live in a quiet house of self hatred
Somewhere at the end of Solitude Street
Where the lights are always off
And the cars are all broken down.
Where have you gone
I know I was wrong
Please forgive me
And give me an extra cup of patience
To take this bitter, sinking feeling
Out of my worn out soul.