I've walked a mile in your shoes,
Hell, i've walked two.
All i got was a blister from your six inch boots
and i learnt nothing about life,
       - nothing about you.
A pilgrimage for all that we're not
and all we will never be
for regrets and lost sanity
you're all of nothing to me

Like you were before

I'm laughing in your face
Though i love you just the same
But i'm not here to advocate your suffering
not here to radiate your pain
But i've walked where you walk
I've seen what you see
I've heard the screams from your massacre
tasted blood and misery.
I felt the prick of the flick knife
you keep him hidden - like a second skin
you had him sheathed inside your boot
are you ashamed of keeping him?

Your pensive silence hides nothing
I've embodied all your secrets
and stolen all your dreams
Yet you're still surprised to feel the bite of the blade
but there is nothing left for us to be
Now there's blood on my clothes
and our blade, in my hand
It seems, somehow, right to end it like this
And i look down to my bleeding wound
self-inflicted on your wrist

1 November 2000.