She fits him like a glove, and
He will keep her warm, and
He’s burning her up, as
She turns to ice.
He’s a drug, and
She’s feverous, and
Nobody else can see it as
She dies.
He’s her poison, and
He’s only hurting her, he is
Built like a vaccine and he’s the bad one
In a batch of a million,
Killing her softly. She will go
In her sleep
In his arms, and
She will count herself lucky, because
She knows that he will cry
Because he cares, and they were made
For each other.
The killer, and
The lover.
Mar 24, 2013
Mar 24, 2013 at 11:59 AM UTC
She fits him like a glove, and
He will keep her warm, and
He’s burning her up, as
She turns to ice.
He’s a drug, and
She’s feverous, and
Nobody else can see it as
She dies.
He’s her poison, and
He’s only hurting her, he is
Built like a vaccine and he’s the bad one
In a batch of a million,
Killing her softly. She will go
In her sleep
In his arms, and
She will count herself lucky, because
She knows that he will cry
Because he cares, and they were made
For each other.
The killer, and
The lover.
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