You are my apocalypse,
in your eyes I first glimpsed the end of the world.
I craved the destruction in your lips.
(I was well aware this was killing me slowly.)

Our love is my suicide,
my manifesto, so to speak.
You named my pain and told me it'll never fade.
You became the only way to numb it.

You're draining me, I know.
Consuming my mind and body with a well-time crooked smile.
I'm beginning to wonder if I mean a thing to you,
or if I'm just the means to your end.

Alone together we gasp for a cure,
thinking we belong simply because we don't.
Forcing together our broken hearts,
bandaging our scars to fake being complete.

You're ****** up and I'm ****** up
and this world is ****** up, too.
So let's pull the trigger and cross the wires,
hands clasped together, becoming the end.