Alabaster teeth at the crack of dawn,
Blossoming storm with a crooked smile,
Can't shake this mist,
Drink the wine that is paradise;

Endure it,
Friends that stray the streets at night,
Grown in the rivers of jealousy,
Hatred is a sword of ink as well.

Is it the way desolation kisses my neck?
Justifying the ghosts on walls as I tire,
Kindness is it's own sort of torture,
Love is just the aftermath of a tragedy.

Misfortune is the deity with the sun in her veins,
Nothing worth losing in my heart these days,
Open riots in the flesh of old graves,
Purpose is just a nickname for pathetic;

Quickly now,
Rinse off all that happiness in the sink,
Spoken in tongues of moonlight and snakes,
Trust me, death is the poor man's doctor.

Unless, it was fate itself,
Verify my passion for silver,
Weighted by the selfish love for wolves,
You are a paradox in the white twilight,

Z is a broken letter, look at how much we have in common with it.