i had a passion for strangers and prescription
painkillers. now is that so bad? i do what i do, but i
don't do what you did. we got a wicked ignition, and the
devil makes three, i'm just trying to rev up my engine.
are you trying to punish me? i was born to a little dead
angel. she dressed my wounds in tape and paper. she said,
"does it still hurt real bad? i am where i am and you're
where you're at." it's like there's searchlights on
inside me, and when they sail past my eyes you can see
the flicker of something i've been trying to find. we
weren't here at the same time, she was leaving just as i
arrived. she touched my hand as she went past, and said,
"your heart is all you have. and if asking for directions
proves that you are lost, well how else you ever gonna
get where you want?" i look at all the things i purchased
when i was feeling worthless, but the stores become
cages, holding blank faces and time wated. and time is
passing, time is dying, time is history, and in all this
time, the clocks hands never once reached out for me. but
you can tell now that i'm tired, oh it's exhausting to be
so diligent in my vigilance, to have a heart that never
sleeps. so this lullaby for lonesome bella can never be
complete, i might close my eyes to dreaming, but i don't
miss a beat. like a soldier up all hours waiting for the
enemy, i'm always watching, always guarding, oh my heart
never sleeps.
