once again
you're flashing me those blues
and i'm remembering why i'm wasting days
if i had the nerve
i'd drain all your beautiful
all you're good for is burning bloodstreams
each movement makes music
a chemical touch that would send shocks
but you're destined for display only
the most i could hope for is to smear the glass
these heavy fingertips
leaving trails of scattered skin and cracked porcelain
tell me what i haven't got
because i'd kill to get it
tell me what i haven't got
don't tell me, he's got it
who's on the receiving end of those perfect lips?
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