i had a passion for strangers and prescription
painkillers.  now is that so bad?  i do what i do, but i
don't do what you did.  we got a wicked ignition, and
the devil makes three, i'm just trying to rev up my
engine.  are you trying to punish me?  i was born to a
little dead angel.  she dressed my wounds in tape and
paper.  she said, "does it still hurt real bad?  i am
where i am and you're where you're at."  it's like
there's searchlights on inside me, and when they sail
past my eyes you can see the flicker of something
i've been trying to find.  we weren't here at the same
time, she was leaving just as i arrived.  she touched my
hand as she went past, and said, "your heart is all you
have.  and if asking for directions proves that you are
lost, well how else you ever gonna get where you
want?" i look at all the things i purchased when i was
feeling worthless, but the stores become cages,
holding blank faces and time wated.  and time is
passing, time is dying, time is history, and in all this
time, the clocks hands never once reached out for
me.  but you can tell now that i'm tired, oh it's
exhausting to be so diligent in my vigilance, to have a
heart that never sleeps.  so this lullaby for lonesome
bella can never be complete, i might close my eyes to
dreaming, but i don't miss a beat.  like a soldier up all
hours waiting for the enemy, i'm always watching,
always guarding, oh my heart never sleeps.