Music Box

I wind and wind and wind And then I watch the ballerina spin I never get tired of the soft melody that accompanies her dance The music haunts me in my days I hear my neighbor playing it on her piano And I think of the way you laughed, and talked, and moved your hands And how you danced, and danced, and then you stopped Because, well, the ballerina and the music cease too The gears break, the spring bends too much The box is cracked into pieces I’m standing alone and wondering If this was really what I wanted to feel I lay at night hallucinating your voice Thinking of things you could’ve said to me If we had spent more time alone And wonder how you did it The same dull click of the closing music box The torn off notes and the interrupted ballerina The same dull look in your eyes How did you do it? Was it calloused rope or was it your uniform tie? But they don’t wear ties in the military They don’t wear white shirts with ironed collars They only wear guns You were wound and wound and wound Forced to play this ugly music Forced to spin around and dance against your will I didn’t have the time to shut the box and let you rest You got wound and wound and wound Until you snapped