I cannot be too personal
'Cause it ain't going to make much sense
Throwing words around the place
And sitting on the fence
Trying hard to mean too much
When I talk to you
Veiled, protected, and dangerous
The lid is closed tight
A velvet lined jeweled box
With hard metal sides
Holds the secrets sharp and clean
Like the edges of a blade
Designed to pierce the hardest heart
I knew I'd got it made
Children walking hand in hand
That were never meant to be
Through an empty shopping street
Out in the a to z
And history catches up with us
And punches me in the face
Stunned with a bleeding nose
An antenna, a mast of pain
Takes me aside and I receive
A small gift of knowledge
I'm still trying to understand