I scout holes in people Holes that can't be filled I sense your broken spirit That will never be healed
You are still waiting For your greatest day to come In this rough world out here Where people when they get from you What they can get from you They get mean with you
Shaped by accident We all carry stories Of accidental pain Deeply encoded images We flash elimatically And forget right after
See me as a private collector Willing to add to his gallery It will be a private viewing Of your personal iconography of pain I'll keep a part of you with me But take your dawn away in return
