I walked blindly into that night,
Or so I led you to believe.
No, I knew what I was doing, and how wrong it was.
I just thought
It could stay a secret,
Just a secret
And nothing more.

Of course I hoped for more,
But how much can one hope for?
How much can one hope for with signals so unclear?

I set my goals too high
And ventured to lows too low.
I knew what I was doing,
knowing it was wrong;
Even knowing how she would feel if she found out--
I knew it was wrong.

But that didn't stop me.

No, it takes an eighteen-wheeler going eighty,
Hitting me right in the face.
It isn't until then that I see.

It isn't until then that I see I'm a selfish *****--
A homewrecker of sorts--
Undeserving of your love.

Leave me here,
Alone,
To bask in my desperation.
Though I'd give you my heart in a second,
Turn me down,
For I am more deserving of pestilence.

I'm not the only one who has to suffer,
Though I may die the most,
I'm not your only imaginary lover.

I'm not the girl you'll walk down the aisle with,
Though I'll be dead before your wedding.
I'm infatuated with fable and myth.

I'm not insane-- I am in love!
Though I will never tell you.
You won't believe it's something I can prove...

This is a most bittersweet goodbye,
Because I could tell, as you walked away, you thought
That my eyes are most beautiful when I cry.

I smile and nod
Because they think I have a soul.
My conscience within me sleeps
Even as I hurl stones at its window,
Begging for a terrible gut feeling
To keep me away from destruction.

My conscience never calls,
And my heart grows more swollen each and every day.
I am the queen of my own world.
I get what I want,
The queen of the gutter.

How much longer will it be until I crash?
A dagger through every heart somehow tangled in my web,
And the largest through the huntress',
Crimson fountains aspew.

That's when my conscience calls,
Screaming at the top of my lungs.
Not until the bodies lay cold on the linoleum
Will the guilt arise to eat me alive.

Long, dark locks frame a pale face.
She pulls her stockings up past her knees—
An undying commitment to blood and lace.

Here she wields a heavy mace
In fantasies of revenge.
Long, dark locks frame a pale face.

She is the victim in an impossible race,
Never as beautiful and she desires;
An undying commitment to blood and lace.

They came and left without a trace,
Oh! Those murderers so cruel!
Long, dark locks frame a pale face.

Kissing at the makeup running down her face.
She submits to the pain.
An undying commitment to blood and lace.

She keeps a single flower in a cracked old vase,
The one memory that never seems to fade.
Long, dark locks frame a pale face:
An undying commitment to blood and lace.

The tedious waking hours
Are just another day
Just another morning
To get out of the way.

Yet another reminder
Of things I cannot be
Of people I won't amount to
Of places I'll never see.

It's not as clear as day
But it's been here for a while
With the reactions people give
Why should I go the extra mile?

I spend an hour in the morning
Conjuring up my mask
Though vanity isn't really
A difficult thing to grasp.

But insufficiency is
For I've got everything I want
Everything but a genuine smile
Through convict and hatred and taunt.

Feed me, feed me
More than I need.
I give obeisance
To my body's greed.

Until I look in the mirror
And hate what I see.
A fragile frame
Destroying me.

The scale's a liar
And so are my friends.
As I turn to wires
And sheets again.

A curiosity dances in the back of my throat,
Choking me up.
A question
That should be so easy to answer.

But how could I know
When I haven't a clue where your heart lies?

Whisper to me sweet nothings,
Yet still swoon over your other love.
Kiss me goodnight
As if I am more than just your mistress.

This unanswered question
That I sacrifice my sanity for
Will never escape my lips,
For I fear the answer.