Xanthology - Only Crime

She pounds out a frantic pulse

We count up all the baseless laws to get by

But she’s grown

She’s grown so cold and left between

Haunted by what might have been

In a different life

Surrounded by what never was

In life alone

We feel these claws upon us

We’re so alone

Rejection desiccates these eyes

The dawn strips the shapes to gray

The destitute resign that way

Just the same

They’ll never be the same

But now she’s miles away from those involved