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Soften the Blow

de Dillon

The most tender thing you've said to me
Is that I suffer from paranoia
Sometimes when I wish to kill
I count from one to six hundred kilometers

Yet, I fail to feel
I sail to sea
I fail to behave rationally
And I fail to grip
I fail to keep
I fail to think about me

"If I were able to hate
Perhaps hatred would bring me relief
I ought to have a steel brow
And a heart of stone"

Yet, you failed to feel
You sailed to sea
You failed to embrace my insecurities
And I failed to grip
I failed to keep
I failed to think about me

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