It's dark here
They're shadows
Everywhere
Save me will you?

And then there will be Ashes
Ashes on my tomb
Of my doom
Before the land
Fear that hand
Its power is too great
But hate
Hate is all we have, people
Hate is what we have

I am a package
Full of lies
And years of careful
Deceit.

I am the wind
Roaring, howling
In the night, for
Everything that isn't.

I am water
Dripping, slowly
Down soft warm skin in
The dead of the night.

I am a scream
Muffled, a
Dull throb in a
Bleeding heart.

I am whispers.
I am darkness.
I am guilt.
I am pleas.

I am lies,
Years of
Carefully constructed
Lies.

It isn't even the dead of the night
This isn't even an empty street
I see lights flashing
And people chattering

I see cowards who might as well
Be accomplices
I see four men
two bikes
four guns
and whole lot of blood

I'm impure?
I'm the liar?
The unbeliever?
The one who's wrong?

Why don't you take a good long look in the mirror?
I'm not the one with the f@%*$ed up slogan
And a weapon set to ****
******

And this blood
Is no one's salvation
You're making a statement
But remember you're starting the war

Honey, this is personal now.
And when I come knocking down your door
remember you're the one who pulled the trigger.

No one ever fell in love with the slash of a sword
You can slice, dice and tear
But there are war-ravaged, pain-stricken voices echoing everywhere
And rivers cascading of blood, meat and bone

And a pen made a legend because
Aristotle was only a philosopher and Alexander was Great
So the pen made the sword, swords never made pens
And ****** was an eight-year-old choir boy on the road to priesthood
And Stalin was the child of abusive alcoholic, kicked out of school

But the pen draws scars far deeper then the sword
Because words can hurt far better then they heal
And words can cut down people in ways the sword can't fathom
And you can always stab someone with a pen
But you can hardly write a lullaby with a ****** dagger.

I could wish you a well full of pennies
And for every scar you've left behind
You can pull out a penny
And shove it down your throat
Or better yet
Drag it across the cold, hard walls around your heart
Like you dug your nails into the flimsy walls of mine
Till I bled you a river
I remember the dark red liquid in your elegant crystal chalice
It might as well have been my blood
You might as well have ****** me dry
I might as well have died there and then.

Or better yet, slain you.

Imagine this:
I'm holding my breath

There's a fish on the roof
And you've just thrown it off
There's a bird in a pond
And you're holding it down

Fish don't fly, honey
And birds don't swim
Magic isn't real
Because if magic was real
I would have wished myself away

If magic was real
I wouldn't be sitting here
With a pen in one hand and a blade in the other
Congratulating myself
For picking the one that left less scars

There aren't swirly white lights
At the edge of this cliff
And I'm hurtling ahead
At breakneck speed

And neck, please break
Because I don't want to survive this one

So maybe fish can fly -  for a moment
And maybe birds can swim - for a second
Before you ***** the life out of them.

I held the cold piece of metal against my warm skin
I put it down, I picked it up
I put it back down
Maybe it was because I was too much of a coward
Or maybe it was because I wasn't enough of a coward
Life was a messy business
Cheating it was even messier

Shades of red shinning through the curtains,
  bouncing off the walls.

Red, red, red dripping down the warm skin,
  stealing all the life.

Red in the morning, the middle of the night,
  creeping down your neck with a knife in the back.

Red in the dark and red in the light,
  red on your breath and red in your bed.

Take a brush, paint it red,
  your whole world is red!

In a flurry of flames I want to be consumed
In the burning warmth I want to melt
In the ever constant heat I want to lay
I want to feel the heat creeping upon my skin
I want to taste the warmth on my lips
I want it to creep up my spine, make me tingle
I want it to take every other feeling away
But what I want seems of little importance

I lay shuddering in an open field
The cold bitterness creeping up on me instead
My blood turning cold
My skin ice
I tremble turn and twist
I can see the flames on the other side, mocking me