I love you . . . the prelude to a tragedy |
He's locked himself away and has created a night for himself. |
With this trunk of ammunition too |
I'll be the thorns on every rose |
The fear of romance. |
He created an angel just for himself |
Dry sarrows drain our blood |
I'm not paranoid. But I know you think I am. |
Hidding behind a mask |
If I'm not back in 10 minutes, avenge my death! |