When I wake up on fire 

and get caught in the sheets, 

my dreams of safety hit the floor. 

I've heard the air raid too many times before 

to be bothered by the bombs. 



And you ask me why I'm holding on 

to what you're holding over my head. 



Well I am lost in the space you left between good and bye. 

And the butterflies 

get caught in my throat 

when they try to follow you away from me. 



I believe in healing 

but there is just no prize 

for whose head gets stuck the deepest in the sand. 



I believe in healing! 



Then Christ, 

just heal me! 



Don't even try to fix this with that face you make. 

I know just how you pout 

like a rainy day without a parade