A slow violence of words
This injurious game you play
Spiteful syllable strings
Arranged and tied into weapons
Weapons
♪
The incisions of your tongue, the slashing
The deliberate cuts run deep and wide
Whatever carved the pedestal you occupy
Was set on this resulting divide
I see through your vain pretence
The veil of you has been parted
Pure and fair you fly on wings up high
Pharisaical, you are faultless
♪
Of all the wounds I expected
Heartbreak, bereavement and despair
I never saw these coming
The gashes of your betrayal