It's no secret now, everyone knows.
It's my shoulder the night uses to cry,
My bedroom with six hundred windows,
My feet where the truth comes to die.

Where the moon can't stop weeping,
While the tide washes the prints in the sand,
Your eyes that seek out new meaning,
Your scared, broken soul in my hands.

This pulse that's been chained to you.
Dandelions amidst lilies of snow,
Someday I will see through your disguise,
Someday pick my name from your lies.

Till then, I'll hide my soul in your book,
And I'll yield to the flood of your innocence,
With my cheap pleads and my sanity.

And you may carry me down to the darkness,
Wipe my slate with a flick of your wrist.
Take this verse, this accursed harness
It's yours now; it's all that there is.

It's no secret now, everyone knows
It's my shoulder the night uses to die,
My bedroom with six hundred windows,
My feet where truth and hope die.

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