thread my heart through a needle the size of your pretty words and turn it around and double knot it; i see it now: my life in an eye, ah, sew it up, sew it up, i don’t want to see this anymore.
He refuses to offer a piece of his heart 'Cause he can't trust it'll be kept unbroken He keeps his feelings belted smart Chances for new emotions left untouched and unspoken
He offers his rut, fresh and mastered Decides it's the best and most he wants for now The heart that's growing a case on him is being plastered At the mere longing to exchange a loyalty vow
There is hope he will change and offer more With no guarantee of his final choice for a future; There is hope, at the depth of a bruised heart still sore Longing to hold him close upon his merciful role as a suture.
Stepping on the corpses of all you've known trekking through the field of bones the sirens sing, green angels with broken wings like a desolate future, in need of suture I see a patina on everything, rustic brains you can always find some sign of life for there is always life within something rose still exist among the filth and **** there will always be beauty in the lies and in the truths that flow through our mouths
