the twisting knife of lovers past
streams forth tears of unheard cries
and when it seems i've found my last
i see another in your eyes

yes, beauty's edge is oft misleading
don't think that you cannot be fooled
you may find your heart is bleeding
and the warmth you feel is blood that's pooled

be weary when you war with woman
she is not as you perceive
there is a face which she keeps hidden
one only seen when you're bereaved

stand tall and proud to be a man
say to her softly "i must go"
though you may not understand
you're better spent to be alone

                                         -Sloan