bleeding

Sixpense None

deep inside the darkest night
is drinking in the light
from pinholes pricked, holy needles knicked
in a canopy of white
I'm alone, I'm alone
and I'm beating my soul to make it bleed a drop of hope
then I'll drink it up in a golden cup and let it grow inside

and I fear that you've gone away
but you must be somewhere near

the fire fades so the deepest shades
slowly trickle down the wall
in a room I hide will I come outside
and have some kind of fall
all my words, all my words
they have lost all their worth
nothing's good enough for anyone
and the look on my face
leaves a subtle trace of the change
that is to come