the black keys
ramparts
One was used to strike at a man For a feeling of release From the hate from which I ran Each one a memory One was used to strike at love To make me feel like I meant Something to the ones I didn't trust Each one a memory And each one felt like a broken bone Beneath it all growing wound Currents Under whispers and tears Undercurrents of fear Realized One was used to strike at me To show the world I didn't care That I couldn't feel the fear Each one a memory You can't expect to let the arrows Fly without paying up the toll These aren't arrows anymore, This is an act of control I don't want to spend the rest of my life Fighting and self condemned What's the use in ten years of scars If you don't learn a thing from them?