She Died At the Funeral; This Time It's Genuine

Stutter out your eulogy
a shank where love had dwelt
slit of writs so deep that you
were free from all the hate
that night

chug the blood of Christ that night
numb the pain of epiphany
cross your yourself with shaking hands
shaking hands for that night

caught red handed, caught red...

we all thought you were pure
i guess you've found your price
we all lose ourselves sometimes
...don't we. don't we?
never to be found (this time)

lying in your coffin
and you almost seem serene
It's too cliche my darling
and i don't but it
the act is up

if you were alive you'd laugh
at the irony this wrought
caught red handed

Its too cliche my darling and i don't buy it
i thought i was pure but i guess i found a price