I have knife deep in me,
In the heart; in the hole; the breath of me.
You only get the worst of me,
Why can’t it be the best of me?

You are pressed upon your knees,
In the mess; in the muck; the misery.
You only need the best of me.
Alone.

Drained, by the memory
Of such savagery,
And for all the breadth of this land
We are insular.

I have voice deep in me,
Hunting; hating; haunting me.
You only hear the half of her,
Why can’t you hear the whole of her?

She is banging on the door,
Breaking; burning down your door.
She only needs the worst of you.
Alone.

Drained, by the memory
Of such savagery,
And for all the breadth of this land
We are insular.