He's running at my open door
faster than he's run before
and as I see a tear stream by
torn by wind from his left eye
I slam the door on his embrace
I cut the prize out of his race
but with my hand still hesitating
I watch his just keep right on racing
Spinning, Sprinting past my door
into hers forever more
and the tear ripped from his left eye past
Slammed against my shaken glass
Splattered care
and there desire
Threw his honest lies like fire
and as the tear
once damp, once clear
starts to dry
it's as I fear
the glass through which I had once trusted
what I saw was now so crusted
over with the salt of lies
hidden once in wet disguise
