Like the moon blossoms of my mind,
You place your hand, upon mine.
Like the devils in my skull,
You, make me whole.
Like the tendrils of evil that crawl upon my skin,
You chose me above all other men.
And yet…
The Devils, the w****s, the filthy w****s are gone.
The tendrils themselves dare not return.
But why I ask?
Why me?
To which you softly reply:
I will not lie.
I see you before no other.
I see you, standing with me, as if I were your mother.
You care for me.
You love me.
I cannot lie.
And I will not even try.
Like the devils in my skull, you, make me whole.
Like the tendrils that crawl across my skin.
You chose me, before all my kin.
And I still have to say.
That I want to be with you, until God himself, turns us to clay.