Killers can be spotted by how many hearts they broke. Thought it but never should've spoke. I'm a writer with his words stick in his throat. Speak with the pencil. Pencil that writes pain and the pencil stuck in my spoke. Bite your tongue since I can't speak with mine. I don't want to again say goodbye. I've had to say it one too many times. But what happens when I lose what I covet so much. Give you all I got, and still it ain't enough. I can't find the words to say to you. But you'll know when I do.