I think, often. Maybe too often.
I think you're scared of me.
I think you're skeptical of the good in things.
And up until you met me, I know you've had every reason to be.

I think we're all monsters, and that humanity is history's great facade.
I think we're all scrambling to find salvation.
And I think I've found mine in pen strokes dedicated to you.

I think, I think, I think...
And with you no longer by my side, I always will think.