| White knuckles, grip so tight
|
| My porcelain pride has shattered in your hands
|
| (Tall as a tree, you’re looking down on me
|
| I keep raising my gaze, all I see is more of you)
|
| Past due to make this right
|
| Come walk with me, it’s time to make amends
|
| (Tenderly you’re bleeding down on me
|
| Well, I will wipe my bloody brow and see this through)
|
| Radiating three-mile-smile
|
| I will watch you burn alive
|
| Follow me into my theater of lunacy
|
| A place where victors write the history
|
| Where sweet atrocities are done
|
| In my dreams you’re nothing but a distant memory
|
| I had a sinful opportunity
|
| Thy’ll never know that you are gon
|
| Flash my immoral might
|
| The vice-like grip of white walls closing in
|
| You squeeze me oh so tight
|
| Your good example was your greatest sin
|
| (In a long lost life there was no struggle or strife
|
| A mental override left me acidified)
|
| Herd my darlings, kill my sheep
|
| Take my blade and hide it deep
|
| Follow me into my theater of lunacy
|
| A place where victors write the history
|
| Where sweet atrocities are done
|
| In my dreams you’re nothing but a distant memory
|
| I had a sinful opportunity
|
| They’ll never know that you are gone |