• I know now that I am mental, masochistic,
    I feel the pain, it's so sadistic,
    Wanting to break you,
    Just so I can feel something,
    Craving your attention,
    Running back to the same old religion.

    It's not just fantasy, it is a choice,
    I have no recognition of your voice,
    Stop toying with me,
    I hate to see you suffer like this,
    Wanting to remain here as I am,
    Hurting myself just to see you bleed.

    Running around without a purpose,
    I'd might as well be dead,
    But now you've given life to me,
    Debt has to be repaid,
    Stinging sorrow that cuts so deep,
    The songs play in my head when I weep.

    I will never say this just to keep you,
    Red is the color, blue is my sin,
    Darting back into the past,
    So quickly, before you can laugh,
    I only wanted to be part of the show,
    Poison thoughts through my head, they flow.

    I run and I run,
    And still I will never find,
    The right way through all this mess,
    All this time and I am the whore,
    I don't want to see you anymore,
    Now I'm just not making sense.

    No, I am in need of a sign,
    Everything that I feel,
    Cannot possibly be real,
    It's all for this grand illusion that I suffer,
    I want to pay for my crimes,
    Can you please be a little rougher?

    Through the swollen needle I bleed,
    A rush, a thrill just to suit my need,
    Saviors can die,
    Just as I crumble and cry,
    I am nobody's hero,
    Not even love can save or stop it now.

    Nothing is safe,
    Finding horror everywhere I turn,
    Someday yet our souls should burn,
    One day when all hope is gone,
    I will disappear,
    Worship my absence, as I become nothing.

    No matter what the distance,
    My heart will remain here shattered,
    As I hide within the shadows,
    Of this decaying light,
    I try so hard to hold on to your presence,
    Deep down I admit, I am afraid.

    And if I could count all the stars in the sky,
    When I was done I would hope to die,
    If for no other purpose,
    Than to serve you, I am your slave,
    But really it's the sweet despair that I crave,
    Hurting myself, but I never meant to hurt you.

    I only carve these scars into my own memory,
    Never ceasing, for even a moment can cost me,
    This blood soaked memory lingers on,
    I will always carry it in my heart,
    This feeling which I cannot describe,
    A dark reminder of my twisted past.

    And of the love,
    That I was so unworthy of,
    It grows so lovely,
    Only to wither and die, like all things,
    In a grand and sinister tapestry,
    All of which is done in vain.