The Knife from Accept by Dead Calm

I wanted to give you the best of me.
But when that wasn't enough,
You began unraveling my love like a tangled shoelace,
Like something that needed correcting.
Your lap became my operating table as you
dissect every bit of kindness and goodness
Until I was a bloody mess in your lap.
I wonder why my hands are stained red and yours are clean,
I don't think it will wash out and I don't think
you'll want to hold my hand anymore.
You tell me I complain too much as I gasp for air,
You say I'm too negative as you cover my mouth with your hand.
You can trick yourself into thinking you're still a good man,
But I can't breathe, you can.

I feel you reach in me, rearranging,
Organizing, correcting, taking.
I don't like it, but if it's what you want I'll live
with it in the hope that one day it will be exchanging.
I'll paint you a triptych when you're done,
I'm not an artist but I could be for you
I'm not a poet but you're still my muse
I'd do anything, I wonder if you knew.
But I can't get up now you're gone, so I guess
I'm not an artist and I'll never be a poet and I
think I did too much.
You're done so go clean your knife
I'm not what you want and I'm not who I was.

• Acoustic
• folk
• indie
• sign crushes motorist
• slowcore