Sister Death

I was stupid for a while but I've not forgotten everything you said
I'm "bound by looks or glances"
Shook Saint Francis off his hooks and led to Sister Death

You could whisper to my drunken ear and we'd go straight to bed
I could keep you like a holy relic
Or you could keep to yourself instead
Oh, that's my dream come true
It's you, it's just you cold and blue
Covered in fireflies, half-dancing to your favorite new eccentric tune

That you heard from a guy that could get you real high
And taught you that boxed wine was great
You laughed at your own jokes and went out for some smokes
And tried hard not to self-sedate
Then he poured you more wine as you tore out his spine
And convulsed in ephemeral state
Then you got up and shouted the lyrics and pouted
"My brain is a volatile thing"

My rose-colored, wool-covered, alcohol-induced shades
Are meant for me when I bore me
I promise I'm not the same



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