Sharp thorns, A small trickle of blood on Delicate rose petals, A thunderstorm to Take away the memory Of your lips From two nights ago, Your hand in mine Let's run away Before it all ends
I realize now that I might have wasted some of my Precious time Trying to rewrite The stars and change Constellations Into a love story That was never fated To last
I ' m H e r e S t a n d i n g O n T h i s E d g e W a i t i n g F o r T h e B r e e z e T o G e n t l y P u s h M y S c a r e d H a n d s I n t o M o t i o n O n c e A g a i n P r a y i n g T h a t T h i s W i l l B e T h e L a s t T i m e I H a v e T o M a k e M y s e l f B l e e d