In Between The Sheets

And this is where I stay, in between the in between.
No more cold winter days.
No more sudden tragedies.
If you really want to know me take away the human heart and
 stab it with
something not so sharp.
Twist like her finger in my hair she's got a brand new 
white canvas on her
face for me to splatter with paint.
She's got nothing more than what was left running down her 
throat.
The best of us was left in your sheets,
restoring things here in between defining what everything 
means to me.
The truth's sometimes so hard to see, in my passive 
uncertainty,
it's a chorus with no melody.
She's got a brand new white canvas on her face.
The best of us was left in your sheets.