In the madness I am caught between what to be and what to mean
All the words lost, she says, and I am tied and tortured
All the words left, she says, hard, jaded and absurd
And when I say I love you, it’s not enough to make things clear
And when I say I love you, it’s not enough to make things clear
Walk with me through the debris of a dying tyranny
What’s left to hold on?
In every story’s end
We turn to start again