To Die is to Last Forever
We are so broken inside, but you can't deny that I tried to put my life where it belongs. When did the world turn black? How much will it take to go back to where we had happiness? To where we had love? I'll meet you again when the platform beneath us falls.
Two coffins, four eyes. One screeches, one cries. White skin and blood drained face, hearts don't beat, hands stay in place. But keep a grip on death itself, and let blood drip from what they've dealt. Hands on keys to sing again, carry on until it ends.
The sun doesn't go down; it dies, reborn at dawn, and then it pries on the cold fingers of death. Since when couldn't we see the stars anymore? Who took away all the things that I adore? I'll meet you again when the platform beneath us falls.
Two coffins, four eyes. One screeches, one cries. White skin and blood drained face, hearts don't beat, hands stay in place. But keep a grip on death itself, and let blood drip from what they've dealt. Hands on keys to sing again, carry on until it ends.
I bleed black out from my eyes, but every time part of you dies, a martyr in a way. The sky is getting lighter, the time has come to differ from what we've always been. I'll meet the real you when the platform beneath us falls.
Two coffins, four eyes. One screeches, one cries. White skin and blood drained face, hearts don't beat, hands stay in place. But keep a grip on death itself, and let blood drip form what they've dealt. Hands on keys to sing again, carry on until it ends, until the rope closes around our necks.
Two coffins, four eyes. One screeches, one cries. White skin and blood drained face, hearts don't beat, hands stay in place. But keep a grip on death itself, and let blood drip from what they've dealt. Hands on keys to sing again, carry on until it ends.
The sun doesn't go down; it dies, reborn at dawn, and then it pries on the cold fingers of death. Since when couldn't we see the stars anymore? Who took away all the things that I adore? I'll meet you again when the platform beneath us falls.
Two coffins, four eyes. One screeches, one cries. White skin and blood drained face, hearts don't beat, hands stay in place. But keep a grip on death itself, and let blood drip from what they've dealt. Hands on keys to sing again, carry on until it ends.
I bleed black out from my eyes, but every time part of you dies, a martyr in a way. The sky is getting lighter, the time has come to differ from what we've always been. I'll meet the real you when the platform beneath us falls.
Two coffins, four eyes. One screeches, one cries. White skin and blood drained face, hearts don't beat, hands stay in place. But keep a grip on death itself, and let blood drip form what they've dealt. Hands on keys to sing again, carry on until it ends, until the rope closes around our necks.
♠ ♠ ♠
I was thinking about people being hung, for what reason I do not know, and then I wrote this. It's supposed to be about a couple that was separated, but both were sentenced to death, so they meet again after they are hung. Kind of a cryptic love story. Tell me what you think?