once again 
you're flashing me those blues 
and i'm remembering why i'm wasting days 
if i had the nerve 
i'd drain all your beautiful 
all you're good for is burning bloodstreams 
each movement makes music 
a chemical touch that would send shocks 
but you're destined for display only 
the most i could hope for is to smear the glass 
these heavy fingertips 
leaving trails of scattered skin and cracked porcelain 
tell me what i haven't got 
because i'd kill to get it 
tell me what i haven't got 
don't tell me, he's got it 
who's on the receiving end of those perfect lips?