the tears wet the page as I murmur sorrowfully to myself
in the old, cracked house, haunted by the spirit of what used to be human
only a hollow, decomposed shell is left now
if everyone is equal...then shouldn't everyone burn together?
prick your finger on the spinning wheel, and wander off to Horrorland...
where the purple roses bloom and then the soul is trapped
trapped but understanding, then it would make sense
I now feel nothing for no one, not even my own self
under the stairs in chains, I listen to the little children play
so peaceful, so serene, until entirety breaks
love was not meant to be in a world where everything ends
stepping too close to the edge, you saw colours when you fell
cold and alone, I sing sorrowfully to myself
in the valley of the lost, pretty misery is displayed neatly in a glass box
dance with me on the thirteenth chime
so I can know it's over this time
beat, bruise, at least then something is felt
maim, scar, at least then something is real
my heart screaming, I can't even figure out if I want this to go away...
untrue to myself, what am I but a meaningless soul
living on only to see what happens at the end?
betraying myself, I scrape the skin once again...
the life pours forth, it soothes
what is happiness but a false lead to sadness?
if there's a god, then why is he just watching?
the truth no one knows, but the saints are still lingering
only to watch their favorite television show, the earth
the little microscopic dots all party, injecting drugs into their fragile bodies
and once they die, will they even find peace?
the emotion felt comes from the pain, not a chemical reaction
walking out in the cold snow barefoot, frostbite nips my skin
bitterly I laugh, what a coincedence
somewhere inside us both, I think we came to expect this
I'm not sure if I realized it would truly happen, though...
at such an early age on, we learned there were no happy endings
every sad song I sing doesn't come to describe the feelings...
every wound torn doesn't come to match the pain
standing there watching as the light walks away
I believed in the hope that got away from Pandora
but just like everything along with nothing, hope dies
I think that in the end, when the milk stopped churning
it was my own love that betrayed me
I know that in conclusion, when the clock stopped turning
it was myself that forsake me