It shouldn't hurt this much to be your angel.
It shouldn't bleed this much to be your guide.
It shouldn't pain this much to love you.
It shouldn't scar this much to be by your side.

I'm torn between obsession and hate, for the mess that we made.
But, they come, they go, so replaceable.
I can only have you in my dreams, it seems.
Because reality strikes and you leave me in pieces, ripped apart, wounded, my wings, fallen off, I am burning in loathe.