On me
Thereâ? s a button
Theyâ? ve ticket the goods,
Theyâ? ve labeled the luggage.
They sent me here,
To a sterile, white
Waiting room.
Not only I know
I contain a ticking bomb.
They say
The word.
They know
The word is the code.
He oughta handle it.
Oh, I explode into pieces.
Do I care?
My dismal lifework.
Who am I?
What have I done?
Iâ? ve lost my self again.
Iâ? ve punished the good,
The innocent, my beloved,
My liberator, my savior.
I know the situation.
I realize my deeds.
Blowing off the bomb
Was lengthening
Way out of hell.
Now who am I
Deserving mercy now.
Done is done.
Perhaps I need
Another bomb.
