I used to listen to the ringing in the empty room, An aching signal like a siren in the gloom. Waiting for a knock, a voice, a sudden change of weather, Trying to tie the fraying ends of me together. But the seasons bled out, the calendar just turned to ash, And the mind adapts to soften every crash. The lonely was a fever, but the fever finally broke, Now I'm wrapped in the silence like a heavy winter cloak. Oh, the predictable quiet, the comfort of the void, A sanctuary built from everything that I destroyed. I am the sovereign of a kingdom made of dust and bone, It’s a heavy kind of heaven, just to be alone. No compromise, no alibi, no risk of being misunderstood, I locked the door to keep me safe, and lost the key for good. Now there’s a shadow standing just outside the boundary line, Asking me to lower all these cold defenses of mine. They call it intimacy, say they want to know me clear, But to be truly known is an existential fear. To hand you down the very tools to cut me to the core, I’ve been my only guard so long, I don't know what you're asking for. Your attention is a blinding light, not a warming glow, The terrifying prospect of the things you'd come to know. When no one else is looking, you forget what you look like too, An unseen identity, painted in a ghostly hue. If you step into my space and hold a mirror to my face, I’ll have to look at everything I’ve buried in this place. I’m afraid of the reflection, I’m afraid of what you'll see. Oh, the predictable quiet, the comfort of the void. A sanctuary built from everything that I destroyed. I am the sovereign of a kingdom made of dust and bone, It’s a heavy kind of heaven, just to be alone. The ache is gone. The armor stays. I watch you through the glass, counting out the days. I am safe. I am unseen. A ghost inside a perfect machine.
