Genocide Approach You Had Me At 'i Wish You Were Dead'
Sunday greets us sweetly and the bottle has run dry.
This is the last time that I will let you in.
Chloroform graces the ever-popular photograph, brimming
with aspersions. But the lights have all burned out
tonight to honor your greatest achievement: stabbing me
so softly I mistake it for your perfect entrance. Hang
yourself from my limbs; I would love to see you try to
face me. Gaze through me on your way down. I can see
your madness painted on the reddened sky. With a simple
flick of the wrist, your promises were defiled. This
empty picture has been distorted by the rivers from my
eyes. I never want to hear your face again. Another
lie. Losing everything through your mistakes, but it's
worth it. I adore you. Changing faces taint our canvas
with somatic lies. I abhor you. Brace yourself, for
when you threw away all of those things you said, I
died, but not in your arms as I had hoped to. Face
yourself, how long will it take to speak of love again
to me, a thing I never knew before I loved you. My
beautiful virus. And I can't see what I've done to
drive you to this desecration of our so-called passion,
of our so-called love. So where are your plush seraphim
when you need them? And what's the point of love if it
doesn't last forever? THE BLOOD -- IS FOR -- YOU. I am
giving up on this, but I can't give up on you. THE
BLOOD IS FOR YOU. Light a candle for a kiss cast aside.
This train will go all night so I'll go along for the
ride. Now I get my wings in this darkness, oh, my
beautiful virus. And I will fly away from you, oh, my
beautiful virus. And I will cry these tears upon the
earth, oh, my beautiful virus. Hoping we'll meet
somewhere between death and you. Your serrated words,
which carry no longer a message of love, tear into my
heart in the same way you did when we met. One last
whisper, left softly under your door: I love you and
farewell.
