If you were an angel
You would burst into flames
If you were an angel
I would not share the blame
If you were an angel
I would still be sane
I would still be the same
Your eyes are so black
So full of oil
I wish I could take it back
I wish I could unspoil
Your hands are so frail
Your lips are so pale
Your fever is burning like hell
I miss you...
You have wrists of suicide
I kiss you...
I can still taste the cyanide
You will forever be my portrait
Of what love is, to me
You will forever be a portent
Of what love should be
You will never be mine
But I'll always be your's
And you can always keep my picture by your side
It was my indentity's suicide
I don't think I love you any more
You're just a worthless, mindless little whore
I don't think I want you any more
You are my disease, and you know it well
You are my excuse to dream about hell
You are my abuse, you I can sell
You have become a revolver
The cyllinder spins, until its locked
It rotates with bullets, moving against the clock
You are pregnant with hollow-pointed dreams
Ready to be shot at my heart...
Ready to explode once inside and rip my insides apart
You will forever be a mourning phone call
Injecting me with poisoned dreams
And that will be all
Of what I know about love, hate, and screams
You will never be mine
But I'll always be your's
And you can always burn my picture at night
It was just my soul, I let it go
I don't need it to breathe and survive
George '02
NXV
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