Fatal Cut

And I, the same, when my cheeks are taut

Don’t show the redd’ning tears I fought.

And they, they watch from a distance away

But do not hear the cries of dismay.

And they, they think, they think they see hope,

But all I see is the nearing of rope.

And now I want my door to shut

So I can draw the fatal cut.

And then I’ll lie in my waiting bed

To dream sweet dreams of glorious red.

Horizon lines I see the next day

Did little to keep the darkness away.