Wormtongue by The Motion Below

I watched him drive the knife in.
Stick thin lips, his eyes ablaze.
Intentions still unclear,
He listens from his hiding place.
I watched the colour fade,
From what once offered warmth and shelter.
Gaunt cheeks and itchy feet,
Manifesting in the wake of his apathy.

And so the years passed by.
(You knew our good intentions.)
Infrequency has turned to absence.
(And you don't fucking care.)
You showed us all the grime that hid beneath.
(And now I'm here.)
Roll up your dirty sleeves,
Does a tongue still hide behind your rotting teeth?

Open up your ears for once.
Why can't you just admit that you were in the fucking wrong?
I've never witnessed such arrogance.
When did we ever do you harm?

A wise man doesn't nail himself onto a crucifix in the wake of his hardships.
Take a step up off your pedestal.
It's getting pitiful.
You just can't shake the fog,
And I'm done trying to guess why.

You drained away,
Stick thin lips, your eyes ablaze.
Intentions still unclear,
You cannot bear to show your face.
How can he stand with his head held so high?
After a decade spent complaining of a bent and broken back?

Just as I thought, you've yet to fix the chip in your shoulder.

A wise man doesn't nail himself onto a crucifix in the wake of his hardships.
And I just want you to know, you may have been forgiven if you'd tried apologising.
Yet instead, you lashed out at all of those who offered aid.
It's such a fucking shame.
Take a step up off your pedestal.
It's getting pitiful.
You just can't shake the fog,

And I'm done trying to guess why.

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