I'd like to cut my heart open
to take you out
or maybe
to see you one more time

Have you seen the faces in the queues so long
Like the world has stopped until the next loud gong
Have we become immune to the system is the system wrong
There's no life left in the faces of the queues so long

Will you love me still
when my flesh has fallen to rot?
Will you love me
when decay has taken my form,
and fed my flesh
to a grave full of worms?
Or should I slow the
gangrenous bubbling of my skin?
Will you love the ivory perfection
of my bones, sweet one,
so like the grasping branches
of a dead tree...?
Will you still lie by my side,
our flesh rotting together,
the roots of a tree twining through
our ribcages?
Will you still love me,
love me dead?