You destroy me in order to have me, without realizing you're only destroying what you want the most; me.
Surrounded by our beautiful disaster, it hurts like hell but tastes so sweet.
It looks satanic, but feels like nirvana.
Is it real? We're not sure.
All we know is we crave it,
We need it,
and we're willing to kill each other over it.
The path of destruction swallows us when night falls,
for no apparent reason what so ever.
It's as though a victim was told that if they make it through the night,
when the sun comes up they are free.
If they beat the other victim, whoever still alive is free.
But baby we don't quit. Until we're both crawling to the sunrise.
Every night we are a victim of each other's ugly side,
and every morning we are free, to the beauty of the mind.
But when will we dish out, more then we can take?
When will violent words, finally start to mutilate?
For me it's already happening, these wounds just won't stitch shut.
Baby stop the bleeding, please, I don't ever want to give up.
Attack then apologize, it happens every time.
These wounds are just too deep, I can feel the life fading from me.
I can't feel you near me anymore.
I can't see your beauty anymore.
Maybe this was it; this was the final hit.
Before we collapsed forever, and that victim lay a corpse and as the morning ray hit
the silhouette of blood would cast a shadow upon your shoulder.
Your efforts to stitch were applaudable, but the bleeding wouldn't stop.
The more you stitched, the more the other wounds came undone again.
That final blow was killer.
Isn't it ironic though,
how in your efforts to have me, you only destroyed me?