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• Artiste: Beth Thornley
• Titre: Bones
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Someday they'll find your bones under my bed; left there for dead though you're not yet. The window curtains fade; slow like the day. I hope you'll stay; I hope you'll go away. And it's not your fault it's a poison well. But it's still your fault you keep drinking there. Someday they'll find your heart under my chair. I try pretending it's not there. Replacing mine with yours is all it'd take to warm it up so it won't ache as much. And it's not your fault it's a poison well. But it's still your fault you keep drinking there. I thought I had long time ago buried them deep; buried them low. But they're still here and they won't go I hear them ache I feel them roll. Someday they'll find your eyes under the stove crying for what they have been shown. I take what's left of you now and again and hold you like I wish you'd held me then. And it's not your fault it's a poison well. But it's still your fault you keep drinking there. And it's not your fault; but it's still your fault. And it's not your fault; but it's all your fault.