My whole body shivers and shakes
with every word left unspoken.
And I don't know if this fire is because I'm broken,
but I desire the funeral pyre and a 21 gun salute.
It's kinda cute, isn't it?
This pain I put me through;
or maybe it's you?
But should that be subject or object?
I guess the truth is I object the coming car wreck on the horizon.
But I haven't slowed down, so what's that saying now?
I'll only have myself to blame
but it's worth the pain
for even another minute
or a second smile.
I can't help what I feel
or the quantity of it.
I just want you to know that I ******' hate it
and love it.
So when your lips slit my wrists
my last wish is that you dug it.