Darling, we're insanity.
I come back to listen
To you whisper your sweet nothings,
Then get a backhand to the face.
I know "you have the capacity to change,"
I mutter to myself, the whole way
To and back from your place.
I tell myself "it won't always be this way,"
One of these days,
My blood soaked clothes
A trail upon your floor,
You'll beg me to stay.
Jan 18, 2015
Jan 18, 2015 at 10:43 PM UTC
Darling, we're insanity.
I come back to listen
To you whisper your sweet nothings,
Then get a backhand to the face.
I know "you have the capacity to change,"
I mutter to myself, the whole way
To and back from your place.
I tell myself "it won't always be this way,"
One of these days,
My blood soaked clothes
A trail upon your floor,
You'll beg me to stay.
