pas vous, depart...

Like a closet matchbook player plays with the option laid in front of the razor blade...
prepare the oxygen tank, apply the pressure on this wound...
it will not disappear with will, it will not disappear with magic...
now I've opened up the door, to the cold...
my lungs are breaking with cold air, my heart is frozen shut...

now I must depart...
it's time to close up shop...
how could it be that fires turn to ashes...
from the comfort of still burning thoughts...

the taste of old news is like smelling used gasoline...
good for asphyxiation, not good for the giving tree...
it gives up all it's branches, until there's nothing left to give but blood...
and you even take that witch might bury my grave...
at least put me in the satin coffin with my favorite decay...

never enough to put up a decent show...
too sacred to give it all up, too self righteous to ask for anything...
and when confronted with absolutes, you become a mad scientist...
not insane but just upset...
not insane...just better off dead to the world...

so wave goodbye, only once this is your chance to do so...
now exit through the big door, exit from the left side of the stage...
but keep that expresion, its pure not manufactured...
escence of morming white tears in line to the rub out...
mascara on your cheeks and fingers...
I don't deserve one of your tears...
save them for someone who was really there...
someone who doesn't feed off them...

the white morning shadowless face appears to be waking up...
to the sound of regrets we wont have to use up...
take my hand, step out of bed, your still wearing the same clothes as last night...
and thankfully the same expression is still there...
now give me that stare, that same one from last night...
it just might be your salvation...it just might be your secret key...
to open my cold dead heart...
to open up my cold dead heart...

the blood relearns to circulate...
but where is it going this time...?
is it leading me back to darkness...?
is it filling me with fire...?
is it the tender femenine touch...?
or is it
just desire...?