The gaping wound of a slit throat
Blooddrained, bleak wrists
Or the empty glassy look
Of a synthetic death
Self-caused domestic destruction...
So sadly beautiful, like a work of art

Right now...
Nothing is as loveable to me
As this sorrow and longing
And don't we constantly run away
From what we desire?
Reverence fot the attractor
For death...

These emotions... turn to hate
As I see all this fake compassion
And everything turns red

Remorseful feelings of guilt
Won't clear your soul

Self-caused demostic destruction...
This is madness you say
And maybe is it so...
Still wonderful to my heart
An obsession, no doubt
For the silent emptiness...

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