Made of Steel - by Our Lady Peace
I can be anything that you want me to be
A punching bag, a piece of string, oh
That reminds you not to think
I found the note down in your car
And its not your fault it gets this hard
Gets this hard
Hold your head high
Don't look down
I'm by your side
Won't back down
You wanted a hero tonight
Well I'm not made of steel
I'm not made of steel
But your secrets safe with me
I can be anything that you want me to be
A holy cross, some sympathy, oh
That reminds you not to bleed
I found the note down in your car
And you climbed up here to fall apart
Fall apart
Hold your head high
Don't look down
I'm by your side
Won't back down
You wanted a hero tonight
Well I'm not made of steel
I'm not made of steel
But your secrets safe with me
No...
Your secrets safe with me
They knock you down
I'll pick you up...
They laugh at you
I'll shut them up
But I'm not made of steel
But I'm not made of steel
But I'm not made of steel
But your secrets safe with me
Yeah
Your secrets safe with me
But yeah
Hold your head high
Don't look down
I'm by your side
Won't back down
You wanted a hero tonight
-----------------------------------------------------------
Bray sat on the plastic chair in the hallway of the hospital, head bowed in his hands, the numb silence of the cold area drifting past him, unheard ticks of the clock and the distant sound of shoes and chatter. He never expected this. Never this. Why didn't he see it before. Why couldn't he have noticed, and stopped this from happening. Why couldn't he have been the one to notice and stop the suffering. But he didn't. No one did. So Bray couldn't stop HIM.
No-one had any idea. No-one suspected. Because they only saw what HE wanted them to see. The only saw the fake smiles, fake smirks, fake laughter - it was all a mask, a shield, a barrier to block them all away from the real HIM the truth. HE didn't want them to see the real scared, weak boy underneath. HE didn't want them to see the pain, the haunted memories, the absolute self hatred that HE kept inside. He wanted no-one to know or see. HE didn't want them to see the victim he was.
Victim. How that word filled Bray's mouth with a bitter taste and heart wrenching feeling. They all failed to SEE his suffering. Because HE tried denying the suffering he felt himself. HE kept it all inside, building it up, till it finally took a hold of him and went out of control.
Bray closed his eyes and let out a shaky breath. Were they HIS tormentors too? For failing to even try reaching him, try breaking him away from the mask and reveal his true identity? Did all the looks and things they said and did concerning HIM *** to HIS suffering? Of course Bray thought as he squeezed his eyes shut tighter and swallowing.
Bray only found out the truth by mistake. Maybe he wasn't ever meant to find out the truth, but too late he did - and too late, it was. He hated that he found out the horrible truth, that he was the one to finally realize then. He should have known sooner. He should have. But he didn't. No one did.
He found the crumpled up note inside the old car. He didn't mean to, he wasn't looking for it, instead the letter found him, in an almost mocking way. The damned old car that the mallrat's rarely used to go around places further from the city. Out of all the places and ways he found out the truth, it was from a crumpled letter in the car that was shoved there to be forgotten about.
Bray went to look in the car for his lost wallet. He'd used the car the day before to go out, and he thought maybe he'd left it in the car. So he went in and rummaged around trying to find it. He frowned and groaned and grumbled in annoyance as he looked around. He opened up the glove compartment and a tonne of stuff came tumbling out. He growled in further annoyance and started to grab the stuff and shove it back in. He wasn't really paying attention to what he was putting back in the glove compartment, until his eyes locked onto a piece of crumpled paper with writing on it. He felt somewhat drawn to it.
Before Bray knew it, he'd sat down in the car seat, closing the door behind himself, locking the winter coldness and dampness outside as his eyes read the unfamiliar scruffy writing. A tale, a confession was made, that made Bray's heart and insides twist up as his eyes widened with shock as he read down to the bottom of the page. And the name that signed the note shocked him. He was so unaware it was unreal. It was like a nightmare passed on as he looked up from the letter, held in his shaky hands. He didn't realize when it began to rain. It was like the sky was crying with sorrow too.
It had been a suicide note. A note that told a shocking confession that made Bray feel so numb. The letter had been written with a purpose, a signed death warrant, only it had been shoved into the glove comnpartment, because the writer had changed HIS mind, and decided to forget the letter. Only Bray felt that what was written inside the letter, the thing that made HIM the writer want to die so much, would never just be forgotten.
So Bray folded up the letter, stuffed it into the safety of his pocket. He opened the door of the car, and the harsh winter pulled him back to the cruel world outside the car. He slammed the car door and trudged his way back to the mall. He walked in and saw Amber who smiled walking upto him, asking if he had any luck finding the wallet. Seeing his face she asked what was wrong. He just shook his head and walked past her. No he hadn't found his wallet, but he'd found something else.
He went up the stairs of the mall, feeling numb as he walked towards a familiar bedroom. He walked to the door, not bothering to knock, just burst in to find the writer sitting on his bed, looking up with an annoyed look at the intrusion. HE opened his mouth to make some kind of comment, only to stop and stare in horrific realization, face draining of colour as Bray took the note from his pocket, and held it up opened, look of sadness on his face.
Bray watched as something inside the writer's eyes seemed to break, and HE got up from the bed and quickly shoved past Bray, feeling suffocated from the realization that he knew, and HE just had to get out of there. HE didn't want this, the questions, the pity, the sympathy, so HE ran. Bray called out after him and ran after HIM, bounding out and towards the stairs. HE yelled at Bray to leave him alone as he ran out the mall, faster than lightning, and Bray stumbled on the stairs and Amber appeared in front of him demanding to know what was going on and what was wrong.
But Bray couldn't say. It was such a horrible secret, a terrible thing, that he just couldn't tell her. The secret was too shocking. All he knew was he had to find HIM before HE did anything stupid to himself.
Too late.
They found HIM, in the front seat of the locked car, head resting against the glass of the window at a slightly angle, pale cold expression on face and empty tears falling from lifeless empty eyes. HE sat there wanting to be left alone, left alone to die as the deep cuts on HIS hidden abused arms drained a deep red sorrowful liquid that spilled over his legs, HIS chest and arms, flowed down the seat.
They stood horrified as Bray managed to smash in the window and unlock the car, before he dragged out HIS body and held him close as he picked him up checking he was still alive. The others stood around shocked, weeping and staring, all wondering the same thing - WHY?
They rushed HIM to the hospital, where after a long painstaking time, they were told HE was fine, he survived. They managed to SAVE HIM.
Bray sighed and rubbed his eyes. They hadn't really saved HIM. HE wasn't fine. HE wasn't really a survivor. Just a victim, who was prevented from escape of the secret for longer. He let out a shaky breath as the reality of it all sank in like lead.
He slowly looked up as the young doctor stood in front of him, pensive look on face and told him "You can go in now".
Bray swallowed and slowly walked into the room feeling nauseous already. The place just reminded him of death. The smell, the dank look of the place. it was a dirty white. He glanced over to the bed where HE lay and he felt twisted inside. HE was lying there looking like death himself, lying still with bandages covering his arms. HE was looking away to the side staring into nothingness with blank eyes.
Bray couldn't take his own eyes away from HIS eyes. They always had this dull, creepy, sad look to them, no matter what. Even when HE was happy, there was no sparkle, the dull look just always reflected back magnetically, attracting people to see that sadness. But no-one felt like seeing that sadness. And as Bray looked now he could see they were totally empty, stripped of bearing emotion. But he knew that haunting sadness was still somewhere inside of HIM.
Bray let out a shaky breath as he slowly walked over to HIS bedside. The walk seemed to last forever, but in reality a few slow seconds. The room seemed to stretch as he got closer and when he sat down, the deadly quietness seemed to bite him as he stared at HIM.
Bray closed his eyes and sighed as he painfully asked - "Why?". He opened his eyes to see empty tears glistening in HIS empty eyes, begging to let go and be bled out. "Why didn't you tell us Lex?" he whispered.
I can be anything that you want me to be
A punching bag, a piece of string, oh
That reminds you not to think
I found the note down in your car
And its not your fault it gets this hard
Gets this hard
Hold your head high
Don't look down
I'm by your side
Won't back down
You wanted a hero tonight
Well I'm not made of steel
I'm not made of steel
But your secrets safe with me
I can be anything that you want me to be
A holy cross, some sympathy, oh
That reminds you not to bleed
I found the note down in your car
And you climbed up here to fall apart
Fall apart
Hold your head high
Don't look down
I'm by your side
Won't back down
You wanted a hero tonight
Well I'm not made of steel
I'm not made of steel
But your secrets safe with me
No...
Your secrets safe with me
They knock you down
I'll pick you up...
They laugh at you
I'll shut them up
But I'm not made of steel
But I'm not made of steel
But I'm not made of steel
But your secrets safe with me
Yeah
Your secrets safe with me
But yeah
Hold your head high
Don't look down
I'm by your side
Won't back down
You wanted a hero tonight
-----------------------------------------------------------
Bray sat on the plastic chair in the hallway of the hospital, head bowed in his hands, the numb silence of the cold area drifting past him, unheard ticks of the clock and the distant sound of shoes and chatter. He never expected this. Never this. Why didn't he see it before. Why couldn't he have noticed, and stopped this from happening. Why couldn't he have been the one to notice and stop the suffering. But he didn't. No one did. So Bray couldn't stop HIM.
No-one had any idea. No-one suspected. Because they only saw what HE wanted them to see. The only saw the fake smiles, fake smirks, fake laughter - it was all a mask, a shield, a barrier to block them all away from the real HIM the truth. HE didn't want them to see the real scared, weak boy underneath. HE didn't want them to see the pain, the haunted memories, the absolute self hatred that HE kept inside. He wanted no-one to know or see. HE didn't want them to see the victim he was.
Victim. How that word filled Bray's mouth with a bitter taste and heart wrenching feeling. They all failed to SEE his suffering. Because HE tried denying the suffering he felt himself. HE kept it all inside, building it up, till it finally took a hold of him and went out of control.
Bray closed his eyes and let out a shaky breath. Were they HIS tormentors too? For failing to even try reaching him, try breaking him away from the mask and reveal his true identity? Did all the looks and things they said and did concerning HIM *** to HIS suffering? Of course Bray thought as he squeezed his eyes shut tighter and swallowing.
Bray only found out the truth by mistake. Maybe he wasn't ever meant to find out the truth, but too late he did - and too late, it was. He hated that he found out the horrible truth, that he was the one to finally realize then. He should have known sooner. He should have. But he didn't. No one did.
He found the crumpled up note inside the old car. He didn't mean to, he wasn't looking for it, instead the letter found him, in an almost mocking way. The damned old car that the mallrat's rarely used to go around places further from the city. Out of all the places and ways he found out the truth, it was from a crumpled letter in the car that was shoved there to be forgotten about.
Bray went to look in the car for his lost wallet. He'd used the car the day before to go out, and he thought maybe he'd left it in the car. So he went in and rummaged around trying to find it. He frowned and groaned and grumbled in annoyance as he looked around. He opened up the glove compartment and a tonne of stuff came tumbling out. He growled in further annoyance and started to grab the stuff and shove it back in. He wasn't really paying attention to what he was putting back in the glove compartment, until his eyes locked onto a piece of crumpled paper with writing on it. He felt somewhat drawn to it.
Before Bray knew it, he'd sat down in the car seat, closing the door behind himself, locking the winter coldness and dampness outside as his eyes read the unfamiliar scruffy writing. A tale, a confession was made, that made Bray's heart and insides twist up as his eyes widened with shock as he read down to the bottom of the page. And the name that signed the note shocked him. He was so unaware it was unreal. It was like a nightmare passed on as he looked up from the letter, held in his shaky hands. He didn't realize when it began to rain. It was like the sky was crying with sorrow too.
It had been a suicide note. A note that told a shocking confession that made Bray feel so numb. The letter had been written with a purpose, a signed death warrant, only it had been shoved into the glove comnpartment, because the writer had changed HIS mind, and decided to forget the letter. Only Bray felt that what was written inside the letter, the thing that made HIM the writer want to die so much, would never just be forgotten.
So Bray folded up the letter, stuffed it into the safety of his pocket. He opened the door of the car, and the harsh winter pulled him back to the cruel world outside the car. He slammed the car door and trudged his way back to the mall. He walked in and saw Amber who smiled walking upto him, asking if he had any luck finding the wallet. Seeing his face she asked what was wrong. He just shook his head and walked past her. No he hadn't found his wallet, but he'd found something else.
He went up the stairs of the mall, feeling numb as he walked towards a familiar bedroom. He walked to the door, not bothering to knock, just burst in to find the writer sitting on his bed, looking up with an annoyed look at the intrusion. HE opened his mouth to make some kind of comment, only to stop and stare in horrific realization, face draining of colour as Bray took the note from his pocket, and held it up opened, look of sadness on his face.
Bray watched as something inside the writer's eyes seemed to break, and HE got up from the bed and quickly shoved past Bray, feeling suffocated from the realization that he knew, and HE just had to get out of there. HE didn't want this, the questions, the pity, the sympathy, so HE ran. Bray called out after him and ran after HIM, bounding out and towards the stairs. HE yelled at Bray to leave him alone as he ran out the mall, faster than lightning, and Bray stumbled on the stairs and Amber appeared in front of him demanding to know what was going on and what was wrong.
But Bray couldn't say. It was such a horrible secret, a terrible thing, that he just couldn't tell her. The secret was too shocking. All he knew was he had to find HIM before HE did anything stupid to himself.
Too late.
They found HIM, in the front seat of the locked car, head resting against the glass of the window at a slightly angle, pale cold expression on face and empty tears falling from lifeless empty eyes. HE sat there wanting to be left alone, left alone to die as the deep cuts on HIS hidden abused arms drained a deep red sorrowful liquid that spilled over his legs, HIS chest and arms, flowed down the seat.
They stood horrified as Bray managed to smash in the window and unlock the car, before he dragged out HIS body and held him close as he picked him up checking he was still alive. The others stood around shocked, weeping and staring, all wondering the same thing - WHY?
They rushed HIM to the hospital, where after a long painstaking time, they were told HE was fine, he survived. They managed to SAVE HIM.
Bray sighed and rubbed his eyes. They hadn't really saved HIM. HE wasn't fine. HE wasn't really a survivor. Just a victim, who was prevented from escape of the secret for longer. He let out a shaky breath as the reality of it all sank in like lead.
He slowly looked up as the young doctor stood in front of him, pensive look on face and told him "You can go in now".
Bray swallowed and slowly walked into the room feeling nauseous already. The place just reminded him of death. The smell, the dank look of the place. it was a dirty white. He glanced over to the bed where HE lay and he felt twisted inside. HE was lying there looking like death himself, lying still with bandages covering his arms. HE was looking away to the side staring into nothingness with blank eyes.
Bray couldn't take his own eyes away from HIS eyes. They always had this dull, creepy, sad look to them, no matter what. Even when HE was happy, there was no sparkle, the dull look just always reflected back magnetically, attracting people to see that sadness. But no-one felt like seeing that sadness. And as Bray looked now he could see they were totally empty, stripped of bearing emotion. But he knew that haunting sadness was still somewhere inside of HIM.
Bray let out a shaky breath as he slowly walked over to HIS bedside. The walk seemed to last forever, but in reality a few slow seconds. The room seemed to stretch as he got closer and when he sat down, the deadly quietness seemed to bite him as he stared at HIM.
Bray closed his eyes and sighed as he painfully asked - "Why?". He opened his eyes to see empty tears glistening in HIS empty eyes, begging to let go and be bled out. "Why didn't you tell us Lex?" he whispered.