Did I reach a bit too far?
Have I gone the wrong way?
Should I be here in this place?
Is there an answer eluding me
Something that I’ve failed to see
Some kind of dark conspiracy
That you kept from me
So you washed your hands
You washed your hands of me
And you walked away
You turned your back on me
And left me here
Who am I if not myself?
Am I just dust upon a forgotten shelf?
Framed and hanging from a wall
In some lonely obscure gallery hall
Still I wait for you
To collect me