The hum of the phone buzzes with the height of the he said, she said ordeal.
The anger escalates, and understanding dissipates as injustice rings its bell.
Suddenly that person, that immortal, that soul, has found its way under your skin
And a momentary slight that they have forgotten is written like a scar on your hand
So rather than cleanse it with grace and forgiveness, you’ve dug it out to let it burn
And the love with which you might have clothed your betrayer
Is exchanged for a coat of crocodile skin.
That’s how you’ll see them, for that’s who they are in the eyes that are stained with your hurt
A reptile, you’ve made them, and clothed with thick skin, so you’ll sling back muddy insults, without a shred of regret
They deserve every ounce of the hurt you’ll inflict through the weapons of isolation and tongue
Your love is reserved for those who love you,
And to the rest, you’ll dress in that coat made with the ugly scales of crocodile.
You’ll no longer see the immortal being beneath that scaly coat
You won’t see past the green thick overlay
Or the spirit of beauty beneath the skin, wound up tightly in the soul of what one day could be
Because you know, and oh, you see, exactly what they are today
And you’ll happily suffocate their potential to change under the label of crocodile.
You’ll spread it to your friends, so they’ll dress him in it too
You’ll laugh and point and smear your pain until he’s paralyzed beneath
Many coats of crocodiles
It will go on this way on revenge’s cycle, until the name on the he said, she said line is yours,
And with a misunderstanding, a flippant comment, the humanity you portrayed so steadily crumbles
Your immortality forgotten, the splendor of your created soul diminished and jeered
Lost under the coat of crocodile
And so we all walk in labels, under these heavy coats of burden
And we’re blind to the way we were made
Fallen creatures of such beauty, such intricacy, such love
Thrown away because we love to hate
What a pity, these balls of beauty, all dressed in green
Seeing each other only as they are, and not as they one day could be
To refuse to recognize their immortality and your own
And that the coats aren’t ours to give
Because those balls of beauty would shine so brightly, were they nurtured with understanding and grace
And those souls would have so much to say
Were they not smothered or defined
By coats of crocodiles