And what is this which is about to become
a part of my weary world
a shard crashed from an angry hand
smashed on the floor by a girl

wounded by words she alone heard
echos from way down below
spoken by ghosts chained to the past
in the basement where nobody goes

She sees not me but someone else
who hurt her way back then
Things were done, words were said
today she hears them again

I beg her to stay in the salon
to love to laugh and to rest
instead of descending down the stairs
to greet those ancient guests