Fourty-four minutes song (no musuc yet)

If there weren’t trails of evidence,

swear I wouldn’t say a word.

For forty-four minutes

she hurled her body against the door.

How do you explain what kind of crazy hurt it takes

to turn a night of sips of wine and no cigarettes

into trembling terror,

shattered bottles and empty pack of smokes?

For forty-four minutes,

she kicked the door.

I struggle with aging,

If it’s not a tooth, knees, or lung.

She promised, “I will always love you,”

her eyes full of dark confessions

For forty-four minutes,

she hammered the door.

she cut her hip nine times,

then she went home with him.

She said, “You knew I wasn’t happy.”

For forty-four minutes,

she knocked her head against the door.

There’s a lot of things you can’t know

until after it’s done.

The night the shit went down,

she smacked me so hard,

I never saw it coming.

For forty-four minutes,

she banged her fists against the door.

I cried, “No more lies, no more deceits.”

But we’re all traitors here

our own wickedest enemies.

For forty-four minutes,

she pounded the door.

No matter how sad, or mad a song,

there’s always an imp at the end,

who sighs a careless laugh,

and that mischief is me.

Does the devil always win?

For forty-four minutes,

she knocked her head against the door.

she kicked the door.

she banged her fists against the door.

she hammered the door.

she threw her body against the door.

Oh, yeah, one last remark.

I tend to destroy evidence.

She said, “You’re so OCD!”

but you can’t obliterate every memory,

I will always love her.

For forty-four minutes,

she knocked her head against the door.

she kicked the door.

she banged her fists against the door.

she hammered the door.

she threw her body against the door.