Here he is. He saves a grin
He wants to be the one who doesn't have to sink a level
Indiscrete, in his retreat
All he need is just a taste of the bitter pride he held in her name
Embrace the solitude in ordinary fucked up state of grace
Far away from the days he bared
The cross he used to wear
In some resolve well aware
A little pitiful, a pin up boy they dress in grieving wear
Well at ease in consent
In the drift of undertow

He won't justify the pity from them
When he knows...fools in love are arrogant
Their sermons cloud his breathing air
He's in love with an isolation from emotion

Here he is awaiting sentence
A fool to think that anyone can escape guilt and anguish
A subtlety that can't be learned
A subtlety that can't be taught
He is caught in the lure of second thoughts
He might still care
As he settles down well aware
Bound in secrecy. His voice will
Only dignify their fears
But sorrow is signified
He's well aware of his pride