I can't seem to find this situation unreal to bind.
The scars are yours but the wound are mine.
Track marks the line.
One moment at a time builds up to a life of crime.
Losing my love one is bitter sour as lime.
Could this be the end of insanity or the start of reality .
In a instant the sound rings my chime.
Surrounded by the smell of pine.
How many hearts of mine will she brake a part?
I give her the count of nine
before it turns cold and dark never to bear a shine