you were playing with my heart like the devil himself
the way I was playing with my blades like the devil herself

you were sipping the blood from my veins, taking away my soul
the way I was sipping alcohol from the bottom of my glass..

empty bottels tell stories about young girls with broken hearts
the newspaper told me you were dead, you overdosed, killed yourself
it was hard to realise what she did, dying, and what was the reason..

was she so sad she just needed to do it, cutting her veins, letting it go
were the voices in her head screaming so loud, she snapped, she died
or was this her only solution to find peace within herself again...

it weren't the voices killing her, it were't the voices inside her head
the thing that was killing her was everything that wasn't even close

she missed the touch of you, your beautiful smile and wonderful eyes
the feeling of being missed when she wasn't around, the feeling of life

the demons never loved humans with goldenhearts
and that's why they always fell for me.