Visiting Hours

Drifted along, lost soul, so what do you know now about forgiveness?
Peel the wallpaper back to reveal scumbag, staggering reminder
Ended alone, punch drunk, you must admit adrift from the beginning
But it takes a strong girl to see when she’s weak in the knees and stone blind
Oh, and memory’s always up for a visit
Ah, but memory’s only out for itself
You see my hands can still speak
It seems I can do just what I want to
I can lift up a pen and begin to put an end to the smell
And all the young men that pass will not ask after the fate that awaits them
They will aspire peace of mind and return to the cards they were dealt
Oh, but memory’s always up for a visit
Oh, and memory’s only out for itself
No, you can’t give it away
Arms around it
Fate, the confusion of the butterfly in the diving bell