| I thank you for the scars
|
| They are the lines that grace my wrists today
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| Have you come to collect the heart
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| Of the ghost you left of me?
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| The purest cloth drapes sinners
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| Fetid shove of lifeless need
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| In my heart she lies embedded
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| But I know she’ll never set me free
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| Fire burns my blood when I touch you
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| Your heart bestowed upon me
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| Now I prayed for a fallen angel
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| With worn out wings and a vampire’s smile
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| I was sent a broken angel
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| I’m still alone on this crooked mile
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| She’s beauty and death
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| Take my last breath
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| I’d gladly give it away
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| She’s wet on my lips
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| The scars on my wrists
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| Inflicted by her misery
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| So I’ll speak in fragments
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| My daily crucifixion
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| You can’t hold me anymore
|
| Fire burns my blood when I touch you
|
| Your heart bestowed on me
|
| And you tell me that it’s art
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| And your tears are made of lies, lies
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| Hanging from your halo
|
| Fire burns my blood when I touch you
|
| Your heart bestowed on me
|
| You tell me that it’s art
|
| And your tears are made of lies
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| Your heart bestowed on me
|
| Your heart bestowed on me
|
| You tell me that it’s art
|
| And your tears are made of lies
|
| Hanging from your obsidian halo
|
| The problem with the dead
|
| They always come back again
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| Coking on your obsidian halo
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| Save your screams for savior scenes |