Johnny Powell and the Seasonal Beasts

The Last Door

i was a friend of yours 
that friend with the horns 
i was the last door 
spiralled by thorns 

i thought i knew 
so i grew pictures of you 
in my outer mind 
and if i was your only hope 
then who was mine? 

there is some bliss in solitary 
be careful who you try to be with 
let me be, don’t follow me, my friend 
we'll end up arguing again 

now i'll be that friend of yours 
without the claws 
i'm trying to burn my bridges 
to open your doors 

i used to be what people see 
and now that it's behind of me 
i'm creeping up on everything 
surprising it, not questioning, you know?