The Hand Of Your Raising

Is it your nature to be kind,

or just the hand of your raising?

I didn't know you before I met you,

and I don't know if I know you now.

It was in the morning when you left,

after a night of talking nonsense.

I hated for you to leave that way

but I watched you go nonetheless.

Now I feel red like the carpet on my bedroom floor

Full of loaded words

and nothing I ain't heard from you before.

Should I have followed you out the door?

Instead of holding it all open.

Like the way that you held me not so long ago.

I wear my cards on my sleeve,

but you leave yours in the shadows.

Looming so deep and in darkness

do you think that I could see?

Now I feel red like the carpet on my bedroom floor

Full of loaded words

and nothing I ain't heard from you before.

Now, I feel red like the carpet on my bedroom floor,

And I'm not sure how I should write you anymore.

Is it your nature to be kind,

or just the hand of your raising?