Wilted

2:43 minutes

The poison that she drinks

And the lies he has her say

The choices that she makes

They keep pushing me away

He trickles down her throat,

Taking her consciousness as he goes,

What was once a field of tulips,

Is now a wilted rose

He steals her every thought,

He robs her pockets clean,

Taking life, and wounding me,

He does more than it may seem

Screaming, fighting, it doesn’t help

At least not to set her free,

She may be captured by just one ghost,

But is blinded and can’t see

The emptiness that fills her soul,

The weakness of her lean,

I swear, I keep on looking,

But she’s nowhere to be seen

How evil and how horrid,

That man the secret key,

And for two ninety-nine a bottle,

He stole her, too, from me.