Cut my throat and let me bleed.
Your silence, love, is killing me.
A bomb went off inside my head.
But sadly, love, I’m not dead.
Not yet. Not yet. (I’m not dead)
Get out of my head. (I’m almost dead)
I’m not dead. (Not yet. Not yet)
These shackles are cutting my skin.
I don’t want to let the darkness in.
They’re sharp, so sharp.
The shards of a broken heart.
Get out of my head.
I’m not dead yet.

Hold me close
The blood is flowing
I'm not dead yet
But I might be going
Paint the roses red
With the dripping from my head
I'm not dead yet (Not yet),
Slit my throat
And watch me bleed
Your absence, love, is killing me
A bomb went off inside my head
But sadly love
Sadly love
Sadly love
(I'm not dead yet)

Doctor, my pen
is mighty as your scalpel. It cuts
as deep and broad.  Layer upon

layer it excavates ignorance and hate. Dare I say
my work’s as great? We both work with
our hands, minds, hearts

and thrones. For the greatness of ourselves,
the greatness of others, the greatness of
pen and scalpel

i inhaled sharply
as if our fingers sliding together
was the breath of fresh air
i never knew i needed

I want to give you infinity. Bloom immunity. This could be our forever.