Holly, maybe it's a clue that something's strange when 
you're lying in pajamas in the rain and screaming 
nonsense. Holly, my sandals are solid on the street while 
you're stuck in stocking feet, soaked on the sidewalk. 
Holly, your closet full of turtlenecks (all black) made 
me think it was just an act. I've been so stupid. But, 
Holly, I swear I'll take you seriously now, though I 
wonder exactly how I should approach you when all the 
spaces in your head become like border lines instead 
around your dormitory bed. I'll get you past them then, 
this time for real. And what does this mean to you? I 
know you're not in any shape to say. What does this mean 
to me? I know that when you're pushing me away, you think 
you're doing me a favor. Well, you're someone that I'll 
stay for now. Holly, this waiting room is all I've seen. 
I'm thumbing through a children's magazine to curb my 
worry. But, Holly, I'm still the one you cannot drive 
away. By your side I swore I'd stay, and I'm still right 
here. I've had this blanket since I was born. It's all 
chewed up, it's all torn. I know it will not keep you 
warm, but maybe you'll see its ratty charm when you can 
heal. Chorus.