Betrayal

The blood of betrayal is on his hands

Faith slips through fingers like desert sand

Hope pinned like a tin badge on an alibi or two

Brutal mercies, tender traps

Charity, false or true

A cast of tired nets

The ebb and flow of tides

The moon's hook and cradle

A string of pretty lies

Are you laughing now?

Or do you cry?

I walk away from these scenes

Sad scenes

Rendezvous of Watney's invention

I turn from these shadows of doubt

Of artifice and searching

Of distance and touch, touch

She returns to the gentle placebo

Of her 100 cigarettes

Ties a knot in her memory

And remembers to forget

To forget

These hands are cold

Those are not my gloves

That is not my face in the mirror

Death, is that you?

The trains roll in, the trains roll out

Step on the cracks and you're a dead man

We won't hear your shout

The blood of betrayal is on your hands

Bruised love

Bruised love slipping like fingers through the sand

Are you crying now?

Or do you laugh?

She returns to the gentle placebo

Of her 100 cigarettes

Ties a knot to her memory

And remembers to forget

To forget

These hands are cold

Those are not my gloves

That is not my face in the mirror

Death, is that you?