Lyrics.

You don't think I make much sense
When I speak of consequence
You just marvel at my eloquence
And then you walk away

Just a word in my defense
Though things between us have grown tense
Just think about the relevence
Of what I have to say

I've been fighting your demons
For such a long time
I think I forgot they're not mine
And you might think that after all this time
That I would find a way
To give them back to you
To tell you that I'm through
But what it all just comes down to
Is that I won't let them go

If there's nothing left to say
Maybe we said it yesterday
I can't rewind, I can't press play
Can't hear the words you said before
You went walking out my door

So many demons left to slay
But they won't come out to play
Without you here, alone I stand
this useless sword still in my hand
And I don't think you understand

I've been fighting your demons
For such a long time
And I think you forgot they're not mine
And I would think that after all this time
That you might set me free
Just take them back from me
And tell me you can see
That what it all just comes down to
Is that I won't let them go
Just like I can't let you go
Though I didn't think you'd know
I can't let you go

. . . Hmmmm. Maybe deuce_4_life is right -- it's really not that hard to write a pop song.

Tree.

Someone in their apartment far across the courtyard is struggling with their Christmas tree, trying to get it upright and straight.

Only I can't see them -- they're on the other side of the tree. All I see is the tree itself, struggling and wriggling and straining and contorting.

Believe me when I say it's a very strange image.