told the truth before.
To scrutinize what we call fate.
Belief no more of what's been forced into
subconciousness.
Hold my breath hope to refrain.
Is love an infection or a sick addiction
When there's nowhere left to run to?
When there's nowher left...this crutch is broken.
Her empty needle is my unsharpened sword,
I stab, I stab, I stab but I can't puncture.
Don't want to love it, don't want to feel it,
Don't want to hear it, don't even want to think about it,
Hold my breath hope to refrain.
And if I can't afford her, my veins begin to ache.
Don't want to feel this pain no more,
Have you ever felt so high that once you came
down you broke inside?
I know she won't take the blame