| I’m shaking and so are my hands
|
| And I can’t tell if it’s the cold or if I’m finally feeling regret
|
| A martyr in my own mind and a pariah
|
| Given the capacity of my own guilt
|
| Do I fight the fact that I am a nervous wreck
|
| Or do I face the forthcoming collision head on?
|
| I don’t know how to abandon my blind heart
|
| (And I’m convinced that you deserve this)
|
| My organs are dark and minuscule
|
| In comparison to yours
|
| I’m no longer pining to cure my disease
|
| I’m just dying to advance the process
|
| Trim your wings and deceive me
|
| Cinch your halo around my neck
|
| Because death houses such beauty
|
| If we can enjoy what will grow in its absence
|
| We are thin and wasted at both ends
|
| And we’ve accepted our position
|
| I was never worthy of following your footsteps
|
| So be sure to leave no evidence that you’ve existed
|
| We dare not turn and face the figures treating us to our descent
|
| If we knew their origin then we’d surely be disgusted
|
| This is the kind of illness
|
| That leaves us rotting from the inside out
|
| And we wear this on our sleeves
|
| Content with our casualty
|
| I would do this all over again
|
| I’m the catalyst of our collapse
|
| Haunted by conviction
|
| And a partner to the pain
|
| Forgive me for who I’ve become these past few years
|
| Forgive me for allowing my love to disappear
|
| Trim your wings and deceive me
|
| Cinch your halo around my neck
|
| And just leave me alone with my thoughts
|
| Eaten alive until there’s nothing left to mourn
|
| I will resonate through the minds of others
|
| As a corpse and nothing more, nothing more |