In the madness I am caught between what to be and what to mean
"All the words lost," she says, "and I am tied and tortured.
All the words left," she says, "hard, jaded and absurd,
And when I say I love you, it's not enough to make things clear,
And when I say I love you, it's not enough to make things clear.
Walk with me through the debris of a dying tyranny
What's left to hold on?"
In every story's end
We turn to start again