Pitchforks Get You Nowhere, But Shovels Dig Graves
Further we press on,
We stall where our lips meet,
Your fingers are clenched around your bleeding wrist,
Further we press on,
We stall where our lips meet,
Your fingers are clenched around your bleeding wrist,
Tie this ribbon around your wound.
And let it soak in the blood.
Tie this noose around my neck...
And hold me close until my breathing stops.
My eyes wander, yours are beautiful tonight,
My lips grace yours what a disturbing seeming sight.
Your flesh smells of something I've never smelled before.
Your flesh is rotting but I've never loved you more.
But I've never loved you more