Make me your suicide queen
With gold encrusted stakes, in her wrists
Give me a crown of rusting thorns and wilted leaves
To rest across my brow and tangle in my hair
Lend me your woodened crucifix to wear as a burden
And maybe then I could be your savior.
But I am not Divine
I'll never be a martyr
Drenched in holy water.
I am not a synthetic Christ
Don't crucify me just yet
Even though the demons inside
Have tempted me to burn in fires below
I am not ready to melt away and turn into ash
There is no plastic saint here, only human flesh.
Give me another chance to prove
I am not a fiend, selling away purity
Only a girl, with one life to ruin
Maybe I'm Judas in the eyes of Him
But I never tried to pretend, or deny myself
All I wanted was to escape from the pain
But to bring my end is against your velvet books.
Well I'll sew you satin letters and
Give you silk seamed glossaries
A new prophecy will be written in the smoothest coffin lining
Not a book on how to live life without your sins
But how to die in your own rights and peace.
I have become your lying god with untrusting eyes
And rusted hinges for my tarnished wings
A rotten crucifix hanging around my neck
With vines of ivy wrapped up in my spine
Swinging in the trees, burning in fires of the air.
Demons of false hopes called my bluffs, last night
Begging me to come and join the flames
I answered their prayers, for I wrote the book
Of silk and satin prophecies.
I am your relief from velvet pages
With every pain and vow bent into my crown
Every drop of hateful sin became my veins.
I am the epitome of your dreaming suicide
Make me your queen.