An they pull me apart piece by piece, analyzing every broken fragment that still bears strength to hold on to the bigger picture until they see me clearly. A rushed feeling of love and understanding is chased away by a glass of rum on ice. Confidence in the failure, a certain erie strength in the rotten feelings that always get washed away, finally help me shine. Like the light of dawn on a black lake. The fog disappears for the morning than the sun sets like it always does and I'm alone and cloudy as I was in the beginning. A glass of rum, whiskey or bourbon to burn the soul back to purity, or maybe to return the soul to blackness and ashes.