Muffle every temptation to scream with your grimy fingers,
because now the perfect words just don't seem good enough.
But don't worry about that, since despite whatever you may say,
I'll still find some way to trip over what comes out of your mouth:
The same way you stumble over the gasps of your own asphyxia.
If you're a dream, then hurry up and come true; because
all this time spent, and all you can offer is a hollow, counterfeit ring.
The future doesn't look so bright from where I'm standing,
but maybe your side will look better--oh, nope!
It still looks the bloody same.
And so I'll let the shadows blend just one last time,
before my eyes close shut and the tiny brain within my heart,
finally starts seeing with these blind stares--
I'm guessing it's a bit hard to focus when you're hanging upside down.
How do you like dangling from this brittle web you've spun?
So here: I give you a silver platter, on which two hearts lay breathing,
with one basic correlation that she's reaching for with knives.
A duo sings with empty shimmers, but one voice lacks emotion now:
Guess whose voice that is, honey, because I'm guessing it isn't yours.
