Lyrics to songs I'll probably never write

shouldn't've done that

His hands are turning red

like the sirens in his head

but there's no way out of bed

when you've nailed down the blankets.

Her hands are turning blue

and her face and body too

but she's stuck to him like glue:

bleach won't clean you if you drank it.

And she wondered

what's death when love's true form's a ghost?

He fucked it up when it mattered most.

Like Eve she woke from blissful sleep

but ice feels better than lies and heat.

When the floor's too low and the curtains too wide

and the doors too far and the shelves too high,

turning mirrors upside down and then standing on her head,

stop looking in those eyes you know they're 'D' 'E' 'A' 'D' dead.

His hands are ruby red

like the blood that's in his head

but he's not getting out of bed

because he nailed down the blankets.

Her hands are sapphire blue

and her eyes and smile too-

she's not stuck to him like glue.

Bleach can't clean him if he drank it.

- Annabel