I want the kind of love,
That's just as real as pain,
The kind you don't recover from,
Nor want to anyway,
An elated sense of presence,
Like needles through a hand,
Breathing at the mercy,
Of my heart's every command,
The rush of pure adrenaline,
When stepping on a nail,
How it grabs my blood's attention,
And keeps my armor frail,
And if I should be so lucky,
To have the state of sharp pain linger,
I hope one day you'll meet me,
The way a hammer meets a finger.
