With death and despair
This love is not fair
No air between bodies
Only bodies between air
They say porcelain dolls haunt empty halls
I say they're in love and no one cares
You turn faith into a metaphor
To hide what you stand for
You claim that your so-called innocence is something to adore
He says I'm his muse
I thought I was the paint
He calls me an angel
Does that make him a saint?
