A Fever In The Lungs, Discretion On The Tongue
Your bloodstained eyes,
Wishing they were as white as the stains you left in my hands.
So how should I feel?
Alive?
Fuck that.
Loved?
Not here.
Used?
Almost.
Alone?
Of course.
Imagine the moonlit sky,
And spread your fingers across my stars.
I hope I did, I swear it's gone now.
This steel will never taste again.
(Stainless my ass.)
And this mouth will never taste again.
(It's already tasted poison.)
But this hand will surely taste again.
(Only if it's tasting you.)
I'm writing the real words,
Describing my face.
But should I spread the ink?
Should I gather the strength to sleep knowing I am?
Or could I change just as easy?
Can I change what God gave me?
These scissors seem as such.
A cut here, slice there, a snip to take it all away.
And there's a brand new me.
She gets the abortion she wished for after all, after 15 years of waiting.
So shouldn't I feel...
Complete?
Wishing they were as white as the stains you left in my hands.
So how should I feel?
Alive?
Fuck that.
Loved?
Not here.
Used?
Almost.
Alone?
Of course.
Imagine the moonlit sky,
And spread your fingers across my stars.
I hope I did, I swear it's gone now.
This steel will never taste again.
(Stainless my ass.)
And this mouth will never taste again.
(It's already tasted poison.)
But this hand will surely taste again.
(Only if it's tasting you.)
I'm writing the real words,
Describing my face.
But should I spread the ink?
Should I gather the strength to sleep knowing I am?
Or could I change just as easy?
Can I change what God gave me?
These scissors seem as such.
A cut here, slice there, a snip to take it all away.
And there's a brand new me.
She gets the abortion she wished for after all, after 15 years of waiting.
So shouldn't I feel...
Complete?