Most days I'm brave in our silent room, most days I face decay's bloom
Let's please return to the time when, you were my best friend
But that sounds like hope doesn't it, it's all we had back then wasn't it; most days
Most days I learn from my anger, and forgive my mirrored stranger
Most days I escape history, to my halfhearted paradise of a seething sea
But some days I still hear you screaming, and taste your lips in anxious air
I see your thin wrists bleeding, staining my nightmare
I hold our son to my chest, and return to dismal depths; of most days