Chapter One
It's easier to run
Replacing this pain with something numb
It's so much easier to go
Then face all this pain here all alone
I held the gas tank in my hand, the fuel had washed onto my hands, and I stink of gas as I walk along the corridors of the Balkov Abbey.
Something has been taken
From deep inside of me
A secret I've kept locked away
No one can ever see
Wounds so deep they never show
They never go away
Like moving pictures in my head
For years and years they've played
The abbey may be made of stone, but I still was dripping the fuel over the corridors, splashing it onto the walls, I came to the lower levels and poured it over the machinery, making a mental picture.
If I could change I would
Take back the pain I would
Retrace every wrong move that I made I would
If I could
Stand up and take the blame I would
If I could take all the shame to the grave I
Would
I moved to the outside of the abbey, to the courtyard, I've stacked wood at the walls, papers, identities of children who have died here.
I pour gas over them; I have a video camera on a stand facing the double doors, I'm never in the picture, it plays as I wash over the wood.
It's easier to run
Replacing this pain with something numb
It's so much easier to go
Then face all this pain here all alone
I light a match, I stare at the flame, and throw it into the wood, I watch as it bursts into flame in a matter of minutes.
I stare, letting the video run; I hear the wood crack, the flames rush into the corridors.
The black smoke rise into the sky, soon there will be people a lot of people, I look over at the bags waiting for me next to camera.
Sometimes I remember
The darkness of my past
Bringing back these memories
I wish I didn't have
Sometimes I think of letting go
And never looking back
And never moving forward so
There would never be a past
I watch as the roof of the abbey starts to burn, the wood at the top is in flames.
The heat is reaching me, the snow at my feet melting; I remove my scarf, the bitchip from my blade, placing Dranzer in my pocket, the blue blade wrapped around in the white scarf.
I throw it into the flames, my bare neck exposing the bruises.
If I could change I would
Take back the pain I would
Retrace every wrong move that I made I would
If I could
Stand up and take the blame I would
If I could take all the shame to the grave I
Would
I wrap myself in another scarf, a black on, not so long but made of wool, the two tails behind me.
Just washing it aside
All of the helplessness inside
Pretending I don't feel misplaced
Is so much simpler than change
I hear the sirens coming towards the building; I move to pick up my bag, my duffel bag and my other bag.
I look back at the building and grunt, call for a taxi and ride away, leaving the camera on the stand, still recording my master piece
It's easier to run
Replacing this pain with something numb
It's so much easier to go
Than face all this pain alone
Never looking back…
TBC…
