I can easily see myself dying at the hands of someone I love, infact, that's how I always believed it would happen that way. My love will always turn into death. I can easily see myself in my sexy psycho's arms, my ribs being crushed, his nails digging into my skin. As my breathing slows, my lungs give in, and my limp body is dropped to the floor.
I hope he cries for me, and all that he's done.
I hope he sits near my cold body for days, hoping that it had never even accured at all, and that one day, I'd open my eyes, and we'd be happy again. I can see my black eyes, and the bleeding that follows.
Stab them out, if you want them. Pull them out, if you think they're pretty. Take them if they feel they belong to you. Break out the glass of the window to my soul, break the glass of emotion forced and used to relfect in my skull.
He'll nail me to the wall.
He'll wear my body like a jacket.
Keep him warm, keep him warm.
I suppose no one can take my eyes now, not even see them, they're hidden in frames.
I guess, I've always seen myself as a saddistic death affair.
I want to die movie style.
Yeah. Movie style.
