There's a boy in the attic

Pulling wings off of angels

His brain filled with static

Waiting for the flame

That will burn his world down

 

No one comes looking here

No one wants to find him

Doesn't matter where he's gone

There's nothing to remind them

No one comes looking here

No one

 

All he knows is

A slap is a touch

A punch is a touch

The hand that shakes and breaks

And nothing he can do will matter that much

 

Hiding in the dark

Waiting for a spark

Being pulled apart

By an unseen force

 

They have rehersaed a thousand times

What they cannot find

 

All the wingless angles

Surround him asking "why?"

Listening to him cry

In that cold gray room

 

He dreams his name carved

On a small gray tomb

All alone he sits and waits

For something that must be fate

 

Why must we hate

Those who come looking