this one needs a violin

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I thought we'd age more gracefully than this,
that the opaque of innocence would have tarnished less.
Instead, a sin-lined mouth and conscience
The way I kiss and the way my eyes are set I'm not even human

I'd stay alive for the shine of the miracles
If I hadn't squandered all my valuables.
The light comes from the ground now; the moon shows me
Gathering dust, propped up against your feet.
If that was my life, then this is my suicide.

We've been playing symphonies on broken strings,
Sending melodies to heaven on undisguised black wings...
I've been thinking too many things I'm better off not saying.

When winter came for you I turned Picasso blue,
Bruised and bent up playing for you,
I never left that room.