There is a point to your charades
I had those vague gestures bagged before yesterday
You ignore each other's questions
Somehow your shoulders can freeze a room
It's high time you broke icicles from under your heart
Tell the truth
Let them melt in the turmoil and run down gutters to the bay
Your next smile could be seconds away
I'm slipping on your icy stares
Vibes stifled by by your lack of care
Wounds like fangs in your mouth penetrate the skin
Starved for caresses as venom rushes in
One can't breathe while choked with puppet strings
Second hand lacerations
Tossing and turning the page before it's red
with the blood you know can't hide behind a frozen exchange
The clock ticks you off
Asks the same questions
So what are you after?
How can tears turn to laughter?
So what are you after?