Is there something to be said?
for all the cold lonely nights in my bed.

Is there something to be read?
with all the dark poetry in my head.

My blood runs blue, yours runs red,
it thickens with the lies its been fed.

Tell me about the revolutions you've led,
about all these rotten secrets you've bled.

Tell me about the guilt you've pled,
about the purple lips you've misread.

Tell me about the love you've fled,
about the loneliness you've wed.

Is there something to be said?
I'm already gone, I'm already dead.