I was following you back there, down the red brick street where you used to stay. I was hoping you would take the hint and not show up for a while. Hushed whispers in a back room of a party I was terrified to go to. I should be careful what I’m singing; sometimes I write it, then it’s true. Gabriel, won’t you open your door? I don’t think that we could ever be the people that we planned to be by now. So hold me up to a light now. See what reflects back into your soul where you keep all the things that you discovered about yourself and that you swore you’d never share. I don’t wanna be a martyr. I’m not ready to die, but love has the strangest way of making things that should be dead feel so alive.
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