To hate is to remain loving, But for you I feel nothing, But cold. These hands used to be on fire Like summer doused in kerosine, alight with lust for life Snuffed out slowly, drowned in their own sweat Now everything they touch is forgot. Forget,
But your mirage was never kind To leave your trails of sand then hide Short-circuit the engine of my mind Now, these insects set in like poison Inject their fever and move on Of cheap heat, premeditated, less emotion Calculated, slowly, as to draw the infection on
But two young hearts can never seem to last Too fickle, fragile, thin as glass So I'll search for flame in older arms With their matches, find sparks of your love's warmth Sick trick, sad ash, to make this season pass They say the blacker the burn, the less it will last If only I could fool myself just the same, Because even cold hands can tell a dull flame.