If I could paint you another morning, then believe me, I would
But she rolled out of bed only just because she could
And there are still dark shadows lurking there at the edge of the wood.
No sound is normal anymore, everything rings, rings, rings,
The death knoll sounds, and the choir sings,
And the doctor, the doctor, well, he just talks of things.
The key key key stays stuck in the door
Nothing feels like safety anymore
Nothing feels like harbour, for the shore
Is jagged sharp rocks crying out for more;
At the bottom of a dark alley, she cries,
On the edge of a green, she dies,
And oh how the time flies
When the folks on the case won't spare you no sighs.
I put on a broad shouldered jacket again, and I said:
"It'll never be me, and it's all in your head."
But if I could now find the first hand that led
To the very first woman being left for dead,
Left for derision, left for scorn,
Left hoping that she had never been born,
Oh God would he wish.