I analyzed your typing pattern
The way you moved your
Index finger across the keyboard
And the way you type my name
Like it is precise but unimportant

I hope you see how my hands move
When I'm drawing on the walls
The way they say your name
Like they're begging Rome not to fall.

I anaylized the way you make your tea
And the way you stir three sugars
And regret
The way you hold the handle
Like my hands won't forget

I hope you see how I make the bed
How I tuck the sheets
Carefully on your side
The way I fix the pillows
Where we had once cried

I anaylized the way you speak
Carefully
and with light
Hoping that a word you say
Won't induce another fight

I hope you see what we've become
This couple of medicocracy
Feelings of forgien beings
Of political democracy

I anaylized the way we
Tread with light feet
And heavy hearts
I know that soon
It all will fall
Your reign of Rome will end
but until then
I'll play an empress of pretend

There is a prison in your head,
with ice-cold walls named bitterness,
with red-hot wardens called hatred,
and sharp-jagged bars made of disinterest.

There is a prison in your head,
a prison you know fairly well,
a prison visited quite often,
a prison life is always hell.

There is a prison in your head,**
which grows upon suffer,
and shrinks down by relief,
which doesn't grant releases,
as long as you haven't belief.