The Knife Songtext
von Dead Calm

I wanted to give you the best of me
But when that wasn′t enough
You began unraveling my love like a tangled shoelace
Like something that needed correcting
Your lap became my operating table as you
Dissect every bit of kindness and goodness
Until I was a bloody mess in your lap I wonder why my hands are stained red and yours are clean
I don't think it will wash out and I don′t think
You'll want to hold my hand anymore
You tell me I complain too much as I gasp for air
You say I'm too negative as you cover my mouth with your hand
You can trick yourself into thinking you′re still a good man
But I can′t breathe, you can


I feel you reach in me, rearranging
Organizing, correcting, taking
I don't like it, but if it′s what you want I'll live
With it in the hope that one day it will be exchanging
I′ll paint you a triptych when you're done
I′m not an artist but I could be for you
I'm not a poet but you're still my muse
I′d do anything, I wonder if you knew
But I can′t get up now you're gone, so I guess
I′m not an artist and I'll never be a poet and I
Think I did too much
You′re done so go clean your knife
I'm not what you want and I′m not who I was