I can't stop thinking about cutting myself up

Visual bruises can be covered with make-up

But down to the core I'm all bruises

My little whore gives this excuses



How can this be rationalized?

Your brain has programmed all of those lies

What do you tell yourself about our situation?

How can you look at yourself without having some sort

of revelation?



How do you live with yourself?

How could you possibly hurt someone like myself?

The saddest part though, is I would take you back

You've turned me into some spineless hypocondriac



Now I tend to every last emotion

I'm just so caught up in this

I cannot grasp its hazed proportions



Alright now I'll be fair

I'll just pull you by your hair

I'll just kick you from time to time

And then I'll love you in the meantime



It will be just like before

I'll be your girl, you'll be my whore



I'm not an angry child

I don't run hot nor mild

But for some reason when it comes to you

I smile at the thought of hitting you



I smile at the thought of watching you die

I strive off the image of making you cry

I feed off the feeling of having you need

I lick the illusion of watching you bleed