Should it matter how you feel?
Because this is my world.
In my head, nothing is that big of a deal.
Tears may run down your cheeks,
but blood runs through my veins.
"It may be warm, but your heart is cold," you say,
"Everything you do is bleak."
Left turn, right turn, whisk.
Should it matter what you've said?
Because all I know are my own words.
I shut out all else, after "It's over, we're dead."
Rain may fall where you stand, but lightening struck me.
Everything is fried inside my head.
Left turn, right turn, whisk.
Should it matter what you've done?
Holding your secrets after you've walked
pulled the trigger on the gun.
Forced to step when you step, learning the waltz.
Left turn, right turn, whisk.
It all feels so false.
Like the master puppeteer,
my words in and out of every ear.
Should it matter that you've apologized?
Those words you said, I don't trust.
I see through your eyes.
Left turn, right turn, whisk.
My hand finally released from your palm,
stomach freed, heart suddenly calm,
I walk straight from now on.
My spin is now my call.
Left turn, right turn, whisk.
We were there, now we're here, and that is all.