Between this journey from birth to death do we need a witness?
A scribe to write down the endless thoughts and hidden emotions we contain?
And then a translator to hold them up to our face
and say "here it is. here is what you think. here is what you are."
That is what you make of me?
Well I feel the weight of your words but you'll feel the razors of mine.

My soul reborn in whose image?

Give me one reason...any reason....to loathe you.
I've known you my whole life.
I feel like i am you. I am your witness inherent around you.
I act as your weakness, your strength, your scribe.

Our souls reborn in one image.

Can you breathe now? I breathe you.
Can you breathe you?
(i'd give my life to sever all ties)

Listen...can't you hear our pain?
can't i free these demons from inside you?
I know they've threatened and shamed you,
but won't you trust me and let me show you my way?
again and again and again time has stolen our lives.
I will not bow down to your words of confusion
for I know them as just that....the words of the denied.
Are you listening?
If you are tell me what i'm saying for i need to know i haven't made this up.
I realize that you've never shared that laughter before
but you will laugh again and so will I...and so will I.

And I looked at you as your blood ran in lines down me.
And from that point on every thing was clear to me.
Your essence was honest and beautiful....I felt numb but set free.