infidel to die for.
let's make this all disappear.
i'll just wipe this dirty slate clean.
we'll send messages to the sun
and play mind games with the coulds along the endless mornings of our time.
but when the storm blows in the cacophany of fear
and sometimes I want to hate you more than you ever know.
I want to be able to create that heat and kindle, the fire that burns your acid heart;
the ugly passion that tears apart the walls brick by brick until the endless seams are left.
yet i'll pull out my needle and thread if it means that something could be fixed.
I'd mix the mortar and build a house a new if I can weave my maze together.
something will give me this one simple chance if I stay on my knees and never stare twoards the light.
what is it that I dream on?
is there some hauting evil that I find the need to vindicate?
I'll just crawl into this darkness I've tried to create for myself until I can crawl no more.
I'll give up this hope of living, and find a tear to shed.
this tear that I proceed to wipe away, and I watch as it drop off my fingertip.
it's all done now; there's nothing left to give, nor nothing left to take
so i'll close this book, snap it shut, wipe its front
and slip it down into my box of life.
"5 Stages of Grief":
Denial
Anger
Bargaining
Depression
Acceptance.
i'll just wipe this dirty slate clean.
we'll send messages to the sun
and play mind games with the coulds along the endless mornings of our time.
but when the storm blows in the cacophany of fear
and sometimes I want to hate you more than you ever know.
I want to be able to create that heat and kindle, the fire that burns your acid heart;
the ugly passion that tears apart the walls brick by brick until the endless seams are left.
yet i'll pull out my needle and thread if it means that something could be fixed.
I'd mix the mortar and build a house a new if I can weave my maze together.
something will give me this one simple chance if I stay on my knees and never stare twoards the light.
what is it that I dream on?
is there some hauting evil that I find the need to vindicate?
I'll just crawl into this darkness I've tried to create for myself until I can crawl no more.
I'll give up this hope of living, and find a tear to shed.
this tear that I proceed to wipe away, and I watch as it drop off my fingertip.
it's all done now; there's nothing left to give, nor nothing left to take
so i'll close this book, snap it shut, wipe its front
and slip it down into my box of life.
"5 Stages of Grief":
Denial
Anger
Bargaining
Depression
Acceptance.