We'll stretch the skin out till it hurtsA smile from ear to earYour side of the storyThe worstAttempt at preventing tearsHere I am, the archetype of wordsGive me a moment!And I'll make it worse!
The flesh it opens in cold bloodIt's put to paper with aConstant upper hand I couldClaim to be at peace with itOr I could set fire to your dying wit!Welcome to heartbreak!You're gonna drown in it!And I'll be on the ocean floor!
Black hearts dead hands!The ink has finally run dry from this lonely pen!The cardiac arrest is worseWhen honest spines are stillThe blade it ruptures no remorseBut a hell of a way to feelYour insides flatten out and flee the courseAnd a tangled conscience creates a new cold warI won't be your open door!
Black hearts dead hands!The ink has finally run dry from this tragic pen!Black hearts dead hands!We'll sink down to the bottom while you're busy sifting sands!Your cold dead hands!Those cold dead hands!
I'd like to thank the sands of time for burying us both just right!