: All ripe, the torrent insides are beating me now The stars are pulling me in, pulling me out This tart owns all the love inside of me and you would
: I am a sick manI am a spiteful man And if your voice just would linger Id pull back at the bar And Id be a wealthy man Blood, meat, torture music Theres
: Im just to sleep under your stairs You lonely witch you werent prepared Soon well be wed on the bathroom floor The guests will applaud as we exit the
: I want that body hovering above me The daughter of the king is on my bus Youve got your fathers eyes And a vampiress neck I want it to hurt, bad But
: Im lost in this decay And I feel Ive touched a brilliant star Oh wait, Ive been drugged I see my palms face down on cutlery Oh please Ive not known
: Summer. the sunsets and your eyes as clear as life, spelling the name of surprise, the most beautiful girl under the skies. i miss home and i miss
: We will meet again, I promise Not hell can stop us now We could meet like this Tower bridge or Regents park And for today I am a new born baby girl
: Good evening love, youre warm like blood And its alright, cause youre you But I should never see your face again Never hear your name again Breathe
: Call it black and white and red all over. that these bones bury in cool dirt. and it meant wrong to name you queen with one foot in my grave. (face
: One game that i wont play. frozen phone lines missing march. blessed sound asleep. it's a tragedy, i feel it is the misery that keeps me coming home
: The pieces fit in you my dearest angel. watching you, watch me. is my heart still circled by your love? oh most precious of gifts, my life faces you
: I want to know is this what water tastes like? cause if it is, i want it to fill my lungs. and stop my breath to wake up this sleeping heart. this
: (Instrumental)
: Angel, will you accept my midnight invitation. you're born of perfection, yeah, misplaced and torn. funny how you show me the pictures of last minutes
: Seven hours until sunrise, i would rather drive than sleep. these lights, these memories. freeways are like pinhole ceilings. the stares they exchange
: Hello my wife, at last There are so many things Ive to ask We spoke before of Francis cross A red masked maid is said to have bought But Im not thinking
: I watch a young boy with a bag of stones In a car, I know that I dont own Its well past three and you phone for me To come and trace back the road
: By phantom light My life just sailed away today And lady youre taking in a drunken sir But Id love to, forget in the mouths of babes I need to be cut
