Fingers wound between hers
but etched in her arm is his name that she can't let go
his bright eyes seem dead
his voice never speaking
her tears are falling
his fingers slipping
it was an illusion
as his grave comes screaming to reality
his dead corpse resting in the casket
foolish illusions
heartache and teardrops
the name etched in her arm starts to fade
the rain pours down
she screams in her pain
it's April's conspiracy
at 3 am
die die my darling
rest rest my love.
