Cut marks sculpture her wrist, and it shows that she is drifting further than ever.
Cut marks sever her wrist. It's remarkable she even still lives at all.

Cut marks sculpture her wrist, and it crept in through the back of her brain, leaving nostalgia like standing in the rain.
Just keep trying to kill what has left you broken, feeble, haunted by the ambiguity harbored inside your head.
There is no pain like the sunset will leave you. You have left me and there is no other way to say that the decay inside the tree is coming for you.
If you're not afraid than tell me, why does the earth shake at the sight of something horrid; something like me?

Marble monoliths reflect the faces of those standing in front of blazing coals. They wash their hands in the fire and gently hold grass in the palms to smolder and rise like clouds in between empty eyes.
Regardless, blood mixes with sand and kills the throat of star sickened man below dismal skies
(Your heart is way too weak to drown out the vibrations you feel when you speak)

Black eyes on TV tell you that there is nowhere else to hide. your ambition has faltered and suddenly just died.
I can tell by the cries, you are still having painful doubts about your eyes closing before you sleep.
A swing of the sword at the throat. A single drop of blood fallen could drown a mosquito and give life to a fly.
We let our insides contradict our instinct, and it's malodorous of course, but I keep your body in the closet so i'll never forget that you were always saying 'I don't know' about things that mattered.

Cut marks sculpture her wrist, and it shows that she is drifting further than ever.
Cut marks sever her wrist. It's remarkable she even still lives at all.

I have grown while tragedy waits behind my feralty. I am slipping away, and there is no other way for me to see the dark like she used to.

Like she used to.

Usually that could stir cauldrons flooded with wine, but the fire has died out and mother's bit through her tongue. It's just obscured visions of oceans that plant seeds of thought in heavy heads. They grow into trees of disease.
Regardless, blood mixes with sand and kills the throat of star sickened man below dismal skies
(Your heart is way too weak to drown out the vibrations you feel when you speak)