The Anonymous Cancer.

My breath is fogging the glass, you're just passing the time.
Until my heart's last arrest in this dead-end lunch line.
So you'll bite your hard luck and pretend not to laugh
As I stare out this window and and into your past.

My eyes tell the story, oh what a day I would have passed up.
Just to admit to you that I'm not in one piece.
Because with that strange encounter, I'm left alone to worry.
And left alone to think. Oh, what I'd give to dream.

The day has almost ended, and you're sitting just above me.
In the pedestal of corruption, where I always said you'd lay.
The place of needless worry, and the palace of resentment.
Don't listen, and pray don't heed what they say.

The curtain will crash on an audience we still hate.
The ribbons will fly for a crowd we don't know.
Some roses will rip up the stage all around us.
But I can't denounce the god to whom I still pray.

(Anonymity was the basis of the lie on which they feed.
We can't stop their slow cancer, we can't help them breathe.
They're lost in the shallows, and we're blind in the dark.
They're still drowning in silence. We're just playing the part.)

This is the last song that I write about you.
This is the last paper I waste scribbling lines I can't sing.
To think that such harmony went untapped for so long.
I won't tell anyone about this, but I still hope you stay.