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I cannot be too personal 'Cause it ain't going to make much sense Throwing words around the place And sitting on the fence Trying hard to mean too much When I talk to you Veiled, protected, and dangerous The lid is closed tight A velvet lined jeweled box With hard metal sides Holds the secrets sharp and clean Like the edges of a blade Designed to pierce the hardest heart I knew I'd got it made Children walking hand in hand That were never meant to be Through an empty shopping street Out in the a to z And history catches up with us And punches me in the face Stunned with a bleeding nose An antenna, a mast of pain Takes me aside and I receive A small gift of knowledge I'm still trying to understand From Letras Mania