While she sings
A quiet man dismembers a doll and sands down its parts
Finding again its always easier to take someone apart
Than put them back together
El Greco's Christ stops on the sidewalk and sees her
So much beauty behind the glass
He comes inside but still can't get any closer, than ever
You took Bedlam for his Golgotha but he says it was Rikers
The place is clean and well lit
But you don't have insomnia anymore
You're just tired of sleeping, alone
It hurts me, too, she sings, and you believe her
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