You are an eight-bit heart attack,
a box of dynamite in the basement
of a match factory.
You don't explode me,
you implode me, I struggle
to keep it all in;
to stay together.
Call it crazy, unreasonable,
sadistic, but this is too deliberate.
Call me a Kennedy, baby.
I die for you.
Mar 13, 2013
Mar 13, 2013 at 8:10 PM UTC
You are an eight-bit heart attack,
a box of dynamite in the basement
of a match factory.
You don't explode me,
you implode me, I struggle
to keep it all in;
to stay together.
Call it crazy, unreasonable,
sadistic, but this is too deliberate.
Call me a Kennedy, baby.
I die for you.
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