A streak of sunlight slips through gunmetal clouds,
laced with shrapnel and lined in steel core.
The ray touches you. You burst into brilliant flames.
I won't play your games.
I won't play your games.

You love to tease, it's no surprise.
Bold red lipstick and dark green eyes.

On second thought, I fancy a round.
I go down. You go down.
Face to face, your lips taste like blood.
Your lips are drenched in blood.

They tremble when you look at me,
as if you have something to say.
I pull you closer, run fingers through your hair,
let you save your words for a better day.