You can’t hear my screams through this house’s thin walls
I can’t reach the shore in your paper lifeboat
You can’t pull me up as I drown while afloat
I can’t help but by this spiralling stairwell be enthralled

I leap over, hurtling towards the water beneath
Blood splatters on the walls, crimson swirls in the sea
You scrub the water coarse, trying to strain the impurity
But my wounds are still open; they continue to bleed

The cycle keeps repeating, as history tends to
You’re tired of all this melodrama that keeps unfolding anew
You think it’s all rehearsed, that it is not impromptu
So I perform behind closed doors, waiting for your cue

During the entr’acte, I wait in the dark
The spotlight’s gone out, the character has not
I have been typecast in this role for too long
It’s become second nature so I play along