And you scratched and you pushed
and my protests were shushed
You said not a word nor acknowledged my pain,
for only your pleasure you sought to gain
And who was I, to make a complaint?
And why should I object or delay?
I played dead and I lay still and I prayed desperately that I were ill
For I simply couldn\'t conceive it, this must be the result of a brutish fever?
Heavy your body and heavy my head, and heavy still the blood on the bed
The blood on the bed
The blood on the bed, you contested your part
It was all my fault, I was falling apart
Yes i was, but I stayed quiet
My eyes stared calm, though my mind was a riot
I say I chose but I had no choice
I had no fight and I had no voice
Forever more will I bear the truth but I trust in karma to punish you
No harm done, to you it seems
the hurt you caused you will never see
Heavy the subject and heavy your breath, heavy the noise in my head
You may forget but I\'ll always remember, the time you spilled my blood on the bed.