i sit here softly wondering
what i should have said
the night you up and went away
the night you quietly fled

should i have sat and held u
all the long night through
or raged and raged against those things
you said i couldn't provide for, for you

the clock is loudly knocking
each long second one by one
as i sit inside this lonely house
as empty as any tomb

for without you here beside me
there is really nothing left to do
before me is a carving knife
beside it lies a gun

as i sit here softly wondering
both seem to loudly call my name
paths open wide in front of me
with guide posts to guide my shame

saying this way too messy
this way is too clean
and a third path to consider
its sign too dark to be seen

i know that by mornings fate
will have made the deciding choice
as i sit here and softly wonder
would i cry if i found my voice?