Weakest Hour

There’s a siren long since living in my brain
She sings a lullaby and whispers my name
It’s a tune I swear I know from long ago
It serves to remind me that I’m not made of stone
She said wait no, keep your hand inside my coat
I swear it’s much warmer there than it is around my throat
I’ll be the memory when we were young
You’ll be the taste upon my tongue
Like a sickness
Like a fever hangin' on to my weakness
I’ll be dead before it’s gone
In my weakest hour
Do ya grovel and cower
In my weakest hour
Do you cry half the night through
Do ya cry when I’m through with you
Do ya cry when we are through
Would I apologize for a thing that I admire
While I gladly lose my faith to the fire
Is my experience not born from truth
Is my sadness now the folly of youth