She can't look into her lovers eyes here
That are filled, to the brim with tears of fear,
That tear her apart as they fall
Cut her hands all up;
Lovers leave their bloody notes on the floor
Do you think of me?
Whats the matter
Is it the slow pitter, patter
Of rain on unfamiliar ceilings
Strangled and tangled
In strange garments
And waiting, for a ride.
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