i had a passion for strangers and prescription painkillers. now is that so bad? i do what i do, but i don't do what you did. we got a wicked ignition, and the devil makes three, i'm just trying to rev up my engine. are you trying to punish me? i was born to a little dead angel. she dressed my wounds in tape and paper. she said, "does it still hurt real bad? i am where i am and you're where you're at." it's like there's searchlights on inside me, and when they sail past my eyes you can see the flicker of something i've been trying to find. we weren't here at the same time, she was leaving just as i arrived. she touched my hand as she went past, and said, "your heart is all you have. and if asking for directions proves that you are lost, well how else you ever gonna get where you want?" i look at all the things i purchased when i was feeling worthless, but the stores become cages, holding blank faces and time wated. and time is passing, time is dying, time is history, and in all this time, the clocks hands never once reached out for me. but you can tell now that i'm tired, oh it's exhausting to be so diligent in my vigilance, to have a heart that never sleeps. so this lullaby for lonesome bella can never be complete, i might close my eyes to dreaming, but i don't miss a beat. like a soldier up all hours waiting for the enemy, i'm always watching, always guarding, oh my heart never sleeps.