the following story has not been altered or adapted
to my best recollection it's exactly how it happened
the first few lines are just a statement of intent
and the persons that it concerns have provided no consent

and not a single thing I say here has been edited for content
I'm tired of fumbling for a tender way to broach the subject
resemblances to those alive and dead are no coincidence
locations and events have not been changed to save the innocent

not me and not you
and it doesn't leave this room

so close the door, make sure you feel the handle click
we'll let our words fall fast and free like hot wax down a candlestick
down in the living room the music's playing loud
you can feel it through the floorboards, I just hope it drowns us out

cause this doesn't leave this room, this doesn't leave this room
I'm only telling you cause I've held it in for months
I will sketch in every detail but I'll only tell it once
and it doesn't leave this room, this doesn't leave this room

so it's pretty crowded out there, we've invited half the town
but I'm sure you've noticed Arielle is nowhere to be found
her sweetheart's on the sofa chain smoking Camel Lights
and gazing blankly out the window, first clenched awfully tight

Darian's out on the porch among the faithless and the flawed
and his seventh beer might tell him if he still believes in God
they're all leaving claw marks on whatever they can hold dear
forgive me friends for the facts that I disclose here

by now I hope you've just assumed
you can't imagine how furious they'd be
if I aired their dirty laundry out for everyone to see
so this doesn't leave this room, this doesn't leave this room

so Arielle and what's his name have been going on three years now
but no one's even seen a trace of Arielle for going on three weeks now
Darian drove up to their duplex last night, hoping just to see her face
but before he even knocked he heard a lock slam in its place

so tomorrow when we pick up broken bottles cups and cans
if you find a broken window, take a guess who cut his hand
I swear it's like he wants her to pretend we don't exist
I'm not saying he's a monster, but he's got this little itch

it's always been there, and it always will be
a permanent fixture
he's a sensitive soul
especially when he hits her

but she offers up her hand to him the second he repents
and at the whisper of a word of it she'd jump to his defense
vainly she awaits the day he stumbles to his senses
maybe she's too kind, maybe he's just too relentless

ohthisdoesn'tleavethisroomthisdoesn'tleavethisroomthisdoesn'tleavethisroom

and all this talk is nothing more than gossip if we don't do something soon

but this doesn't leave this room

cause the ghosts inside her closet have begun to turn her home into a tomb

but this doesn't leave this room

and when she finally leaves their house I'm kinda scared
of what comes out of that cocoon