There are two types of beauty
One is black, the other white...

If these wings are becoming of me,
with their familiar shade of black...

Is it for the blood or the passion
For the need or the lust that's within...

The bones that stain this meadow
make a sound so thin and sweet...

He captures me with haunted eyes
As the music fills the room...

The tears that fall from my fragile eyes
are all I have left...

They're awful,
These people that do these things...

I dont know how much more I can take. I wonder how...
this heart is ready to give in, theres no way I...

Who sent you?
Was it God...

F**ck!
She clutches her arm...

The pulsing beat of the music hums, caressing each...
Standing in the middle of the crowd, she found her...

The other shape,
If shape it might be call'd, that shape had none...