| You’re running for the kitchen drawer to find a knife to end me
|
| 'Cause if I’m not yours anymore then no-one else shall have me
|
| The mirror broke seven years to go of misery and corrosion
|
| We can watch our kind of love
|
| We gotta a dangerous obsession
|
| And there was a look that froze your eyes
|
| Of irrational destruction
|
| I only saw you through a selfish
|
| Smokescreen of corruption
|
| I fell upon you, threw you down
|
| And out like other flotsam
|
| Body unknown (x3)
|
| Put your photo in my book of bodies
|
| Like a killer counts the notches
|
| Smile about you sometimes
|
| When drawing of the catches
|
| A gallery from the photo-booth
|
| A hundred frozen faces
|
| Body or no, all overthrown
|
| All weary, worn out, wasted
|
| Body unknown (x3)
|
| I clasp your wrist, the edge cuts
|
| Into the little finger
|
| Its not the pain of skin wound
|
| Its the mentalness that lingers
|
| And your hair was wet, torrential tears
|
| I always hear you crying
|
| And I smelled you head, damp like a dog
|
| That smell of damp dogs dying
|
| Body unknown (x3)
|
| You cry
|
| Body unknown
|
| You cry
|
| Body unknown |