Explode and once again cry quietly.

You wear the bruises on your neck like jewelry.
Seeing as how you are never separated from them.
The lie you believe feels good with the direction you seek.

Wait stop, do not make a sound. Do not do this.
You are much to weak for what you desire. Do not do this.

I play not with fire but with colors on a canvas I call my mind.
Is this sick? Does it freak you out? Turn your head.
Lovely is what you want to be. To bad your late.

Wait stop, do not make a sound. Do not do this.
You are much to weak for what you desire. Do not do this.

Listen to pain, the pressure. The promise of what we see.
Hold hands like sculptures falling, and alone.
It is clear my mind is not welcome here.

I play not with fire but with colors on a canvas I call my mind.
You wear the bruises on your neck like jewelry. Is this sick?
Lovely is what you want to be. Does it freak you out?
The lie you believe feels good with the direction you seek.
But its all over. To bad your late.