Through my darkest hour,
I remain stuck in a tower,
Caged like a bird,
Without its wings.
I stand with a brush in hand,
Taking in all of the scene.
Cry for me,
Show me the way you raise with grace,
Tell me,
Have they seen your painted face?
Dear brother,
I’m sorry I cannot awake.
We’ll have to reschedule
Our last date.
Tell me, tell me
How’s your lucky fate?
Cry for me,
Show me you’re the way you raise with grace,
Tell me,
Have they seen your painted face?
In an evening’s notice,
You still wouldn’t care.
If I abandoned this last crusade,
Would you notice?
Your sister’s missing grace,
Has arrived now.
I can see your painted art.
Decked in in a fiery dark hue.
Have I realized?
That this was all on you.