A kind word, a touch on my shoulder, a smile freely given.
But these things cannot dispel a madness so surely driven.
Words, so often spilled like blood on a page, fail me here.
I just smile, and exchange pleasantries, drink some beer.
You are so beautiful and sweet, the bright northern star.
A light to guide me back from a dark world not so afar.
What could I give you if you were mine, what treasured thing?
I am broken and mad, not at all a paladin, no money for a ring.
And, at the end of the night, comes the empty room, no sleep.
Watch videos on YouTube, or sad music, as the stars bitterly creep.
If you were here in my arms, would the brokenness heal, fissures close?
Would I know the peace, the contentment, a sweetness everybody knows?