I wear my anger as armor,
I slowly sharpen it into a knife,
and you won’t see it coming,
the way, the wrecked,
leave the worst wreckage,
cunning, stunning,
justified by the worst times,
until all that is left,
is an apology,
and me.

I wear my anger as armor,
I slowly sharpen it into a knife,
and you won’t see it coming,
the way, the wrecked,
leave the worst wreckage,
cunning, stunning,
justified by the worst times,
until all that is left,
is an apology,
and me.