The collateral fiction of Waves
The sounds of echoes scream as I strained by my body by the beat of the music  
Tears pouring down on my  makeup
You can hold me down if you want to
I don't really mind 'cause I'd like to
Feel love, how it hurts,
Guillotined of principles killing my subconscious thoughts of the injustice
When we cling on each other bodies doesn't matter the weather changes on over the collide of pauses
And I was writing poetry about you every day
And yeah, I know that things
They never tend to stay the same
But I don't think you love me and it kills me every day
Burned out by the red cuff of over lining shine
The word we're unimaginable
By the colorful pigments of fools
Like the collision of her blames that blinds her before she flies higher than the stars
Blink of the moon and the perpendicular crimination of crimson cream
Bloom all over the sky of orange and blue
The sense of unhappiness is so much easier to convey than that of happiness. In misery we seem aware of our own existence, even though it may be in the form of a monstrous egotism: this pain of mine is individual, this nerve that winces belongs to me and to no other. But happiness annihilates us: we lose our identity
What was she supposed to feel
What was she supposed to do
In the different universe, how was her story gonna end
So many victims tattered her eager thoughts
It is better to lock up your heart with a merciless padlock than to fall in love with someone who doesn't know what they mean to you.
Let her sin away her thought of us
Let her devils ruin her soul and peace of mind
Pictures of her burns alive as the wave take her away