If you needed to leave than you need to.
You've overstayed your own absence, in the sense that you've dispersed yourself into every inch of me, and all my surroundings.
And if you want my sleepless haunt, you have it.
If I can't breathe around your name, it's habit.
Well death slept in my bed last night,
And with her lips whispered in my ear "she made you who you are, and now what you've become"
Death slept in my bed last night,
With conversation conquered by the questions in repetition of circumstances I fell too.
*but I waited every single night, but you're never there, no you never said*
This death just doesn't suit you right, *cause you're never there, no you're never there.*
Death slept in my bed last night, could I be forgiven for the letters burned and the photos turned away from every pannel that she paints.
Death slept in my bed last night. Will I ever escape the sight of her last face that I had to bare?, as we silently recited, "she's not there"
And the sight of candle light on a wax face, it's revolting, nauseating,
Till we realize we're staring at something that use to be beautiful....
Cause she use to be beautiful,
Like I wanna be beautiful.
Now I'm divided by the silent things that re-create you.
As your face re-defined the very death, that caught up to you......
You've overstayed your own absence, in the sense that you've dispersed yourself into every inch of me, and all my surroundings.
And if you want my sleepless haunt, you have it.
If I can't breathe around your name, it's habit.
Well death slept in my bed last night,
And with her lips whispered in my ear "she made you who you are, and now what you've become"
Death slept in my bed last night,
With conversation conquered by the questions in repetition of circumstances I fell too.
*but I waited every single night, but you're never there, no you never said*
This death just doesn't suit you right, *cause you're never there, no you're never there.*
Death slept in my bed last night, could I be forgiven for the letters burned and the photos turned away from every pannel that she paints.
Death slept in my bed last night. Will I ever escape the sight of her last face that I had to bare?, as we silently recited, "she's not there"
And the sight of candle light on a wax face, it's revolting, nauseating,
Till we realize we're staring at something that use to be beautiful....
Cause she use to be beautiful,
Like I wanna be beautiful.
Now I'm divided by the silent things that re-create you.
As your face re-defined the very death, that caught up to you......