Low toned absent hearts,
And so softly spoken lies,
Feel your vomited words creep up,
To where i choose to hide. . .

Silent comfort shaken loose,
And oh, too often fires,
Not so many a soul stays fresh,
Before it becomes so tired. . .

And lost. . .broken hearts,
But not destroyed, and your eyes:
Strike fear into the waking children,
To the reality that they die. . .

And many become so far away,
Distraught from all the pain,
Bringing more upon eachother,
By doing things from which they cannot refrain. . .

Caressing hatred, all fine until,
The loving murder sets in,
Who doesnt long to unravel,
What they themselves begin?

And so torn up the stomaches of the infants,
Whos lives havent yet begun,
But they grow deformed for their parent's lack,
Of knowing what is death and what is fun. . .

Safe blood burns through the second floor,
Because its dripping from the third,
And what the fuck do you think we can say,
That someone hasnt heard?

I bruise you because i love you,
Cos i think you taste better dead.
Change the way our stories go,
If you want a bullet in your head.