Frayed

The ribbons are frayed
 on the mask that you made


it was bidden and paid for by love,


And thereʼs something unkind


in the way that you tried
 to steal the moon from the stars up above

Iʼm not afraid of this masquerade
 though itʼs something Iʼve become sick of.

This heaven you trade 
will be measured and weighed 
in lament of the frail mourning dove

And Iʼm not allowed to reap the regard the reward the wish

And Iʼm not allowed to not play the game


But I never vowed to forever take my aim and miss
And Iʼm not your shame

Iʼm not your blame

Integrity strayed
 on that aching crusade 
it was hidden in a labor of love


No one was paid and the prison we made 
was nothing we could be proud of.