I stole the flowers to my own grave,
I cleaned the floor from blood and got away.
My crime is breaking hearts and being heartbroken,
the thrill of pain I seek again, provoked.
And I keep the needles in the space between my fingers where your fingers used to be.
Nov 26, 2019
Nov 26, 2019 at 7:53 AM UTC
I stole the flowers to my own grave,
I cleaned the floor from blood and got away.
My crime is breaking hearts and being heartbroken,
the thrill of pain I seek again, provoked.
And I keep the needles in the space between my fingers where your fingers used to be.
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