I see your face,
I search your face,
contorted and twisted
with my disgrace.
Disloyal I may have been
but tied to you I am not,
and though you tried and tried again,
my loving cannot be bought.
And while I may have let you then,
your touch still haunts my dreams;
every time you clench your fist,
the voice in my head screams.
And for now,
this foolish heart resides,
stitches its wounds,
and heals its pride.
I see your face,
I search your face,
contorted and twisted
with my disgrace.