SHE's the smear with a queer fear
She's the paste that has been painted on my face
She's the abstract trembling of my bones within, while I stand unshaking, without.
She's the calm demeanor like a cloak about me, while the storm rages strong in my mind, beyond.
She is my Facade, my covering, my stance.
Dig a little deeper... Dig a few depths more... and maybe you will free my smile, flit and light the meadow of this night.
You lost your chance.
Grace found my past.
Repaired its happenstance.
Perchance... No... This is the real deal.
I'm FREE from the prison of my facade.