A black TV screen stares in front of me flat and dead
Our room reflected filtered through an unbiased lens
I look so cool so collected
But I can’t look at you and be objective
I spy you on that screen
Watching a reflection of me
In the silent motion picture
As you move in and out of the scene

It hangs there in the kitchen
Maybe not how the story meant it
A sword of Damocles chopping onions
What’s for dinner tonight?
Will it be you
Will it be me?

Weapons sheathed four small words
Balance our routine
Hide the hole that’s gaping
Keep orbiting
Might as well be dreaming
I might as well be screaming

Rotting in this cell of loneliness
Saturating in this farce we’ve become
A charade with a toothless grin crawls on my skin
Makes my heart break over and over again
Love isn’t freedom in this scene
Love isn’t a feeling in this scene
Love is just a way of life
A way of suffering
That doesn’t disguise itself
Or apologize for its method
Our love is the most ruthless weapon

My life looks brighter on the screen
Actress of my own screams
I’m the star tonight in a big scene
All alone on the TV

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