And maybe they are strange, strange children
who are tired, tired

[But a tired that sleep won't fix]

A Crow theived him of his blood
And in return he haunted her,
her ghost

And when madness and contempt
Became stained by passion and pale flesh
He thinks that their tangled, ****** limbs
will be their d o w n f a l l

[But then again, he was the one to triumph in the end]

A Crow theived him of his blood
And in return he haunted her,
her ghost

And when madness and contempt
Became stained by passion and pale flesh
He thinks that their tangled, ****** limbs
will be their d o w n f a l l

[But then again, he was the one to triumph in the end]

And you burn me
With your gall
And rasping beauty
Fused into tarnish and **gold

He is torn
between two royals,
blue blood, pretty eyes.

One is his master, his King.
The other holds his heart captive,
greedy, greedy.

She is porcelain skin, ****** hair.
Her mouth is a wicked creature,
poison her weapon of choice
(And how she has poisoned him)

She lusts for the throne
He thwarts her at every turn

Its a strange game,
tearing each other apart