The truth is hate is not the death of love
Instead it burns love's heart from pink to red
And love becomes a savage primal thing
        Unholy                                             ­     
           Animal                            
                       Alive                  
                             Undead
             The gentle warmth of love becomes a fire        
That turns it to a monster in the light
And burns the tender feathers from its wings
Which cast their demon shadow
On the night