After one night of many nights all rolled into one
You shoot me through with one pass.
It’s a clean break as I fall into consciousness
Tumbling through unfamiliar seas of painful candor, sovereign guilt
And reckless bliss.
The weighted bullet around your neck reminds me of your careless aim
And my selfish craving to be its target.
The metal is cold against my lips and unforgiving beneath my fingers.
I cannot help but cry when it touches me, weeping with longing from one eye
While the other flows with regret.
Three pulses rust now, as my commitment turns to ash
And a scarlet phoenix blooms from the blood of a union sacrificed
Yet the irony is taunting me, as I see clearly
That I’m gunning for salvation as you engulf me in temptation.
What a dangerous pair we make, we two, the Silver Bullet Brigade
Firing round after round into the establishment
And ruining our souls as we shake to set them free.
Your newly empty chamber is still hot from its release.
I’m unstable. My exit wound is ragged.
But the smoking gun is not held in one pair of hands.
Aug 19, 2013
Aug 19, 2013 at 11:00 PM UTC
After one night of many nights all rolled into one
You shoot me through with one pass.
It’s a clean break as I fall into consciousness
Tumbling through unfamiliar seas of painful candor, sovereign guilt
And reckless bliss.
The weighted bullet around your neck reminds me of your careless aim
And my selfish craving to be its target.
The metal is cold against my lips and unforgiving beneath my fingers.
I cannot help but cry when it touches me, weeping with longing from one eye
While the other flows with regret.
Three pulses rust now, as my commitment turns to ash
And a scarlet phoenix blooms from the blood of a union sacrificed
Yet the irony is taunting me, as I see clearly
That I’m gunning for salvation as you engulf me in temptation.
What a dangerous pair we make, we two, the Silver Bullet Brigade
Firing round after round into the establishment
And ruining our souls as we shake to set them free.
Your newly empty chamber is still hot from its release.
I’m unstable. My exit wound is ragged.
But the smoking gun is not held in one pair of hands.
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