Asthma Million Dead

It's very late and I'm staring at my first guitar
And having doubts about
My paramour
I'm kept awake by the whitest noise
The frail voice that made me make a choice
I would ignore

I'm reaching for these notes although
It's easier to sing falsetto
Than really strain
It's easier to hide behind a line
About a troubled mind then
Then to explain

That I am
A cat to your asthma
And you are
The smoke to my cancer

And I
And i can heal a break by walking on
A shattered limb with
The bravest grin instead of
A tourniquet

But you
You can't clean a wound by wallowing
In words unspoken
Vows now broken
Washing time away