In the trash heap at the shoreline, I am able To be honest; not with you, but with myself I am wreckage on display upon a shelf I'm someone else Trapped inside a sad goodbye that never seems to end A hole that picket fences couldn't mend And tiny hands with No scheduled existence, reach for mine to cross the street A puzzle piece, embraced defection Estranged, unable to go back What was a thought is now infection Of my yearning coronary tract The simplest of questions may invite the harshest truths Information which I have no use But self-destruction Having faith is escalating with your shoes untied I might have died, but I'm already dead inside Trapped within the scaffolding of all I won't achieve My mind, a prison I will never leave I touch my failure Never have a daughter, and I'll never fall in love Never have a daughter, and I'll never fall in love