Stare at the broken reflection
Wishing we were lost
Here lies the album
Torn pictures now seem shot
Begging now for what we live for
Counting down to collapse on the floor
Closer now the nauseas creep
Quiet now we softly speak

My myth, your magic
Not quite the way we planned
Last kiss, seems tragic
Can't this cure the damned
My myth, your magic
Will you ever understand
Last kiss, seems tragic
Am I the weaker man

When every nightmare calls out to you
I'll be far from here
Exhaust the roots of confession
Before the dead appear
Seamless portraits hide much more
What I have in store

Dying moment, will it ever end
This sickness, contagious
This hate within


Lyrics submitted by Frances-The-Tool

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