Handcuffs on my heart, that’s cardiac arrest I’ll play William Tell like Burroughs with one bullet left It’s russian roulette with symptoms left unchecked I’m comatose at best, she’s a disease of the head Fuck, marry, kill, as if there’s nothing to invest At a standstill, there’s a stalemate in my bed Cuz we play this game of chess so close to our chest Love’s not dead, that’s just a delusion we invent The Maker’s Mark leaves a scar on my lover’s arms I cried myself to sleep, you asked when it rained so hard Six feet under my art lies a heart torn apart By a world of morning glories mourning a false start I've wished for the end just to see what comes next But came to realize all roads end in death I wish things would last but that’s not what I get So I’ll wish for a song that gets me out of my head Get my lion's share of hunting snares in predatory love affairs But I don't chase the day unless it’s up a flight of stairs Leading to a room with a panoramic view Most people die for nothing, with everything to lose Wear this halo like a noose, dangle strangled from a spruce Personified my end and then she dyed her hair blue Entombed in her hues, dancing down dark avenues I’m patient with my ruse, it’s my greatest virtue I’m blue over news and I might not see this through I’m groomed for abuse and neglect to my point of view I’m doomed to a truth that I’ll never be right for you It’s gloom in my room, it feels more like a tomb But in the dark I’ve seen the most patient flowers bloom In my heart lies a force that is as tired as you But there’s no time to rest when you’re surrounded by these views So I’ll keep moving forward with plenty left to do I’m screwed by a rule that says I cannot mend this bruise I’ve succumbed to cues providing roads to choose I’m lost from lack of use and I’ll never stop paying dues To a world that refuses to acknowledge their misuse I’m in love with a muse that others think is an excuse I’m entranced by the fire in her that lights my fuse It ignites a chain reaction when these dark clouds start to loom And breathes life into the very womb that is my nom de plume I’ve ignored the beauty that surrounds all this doom and gloom I’ve squandered second chances given by kinder hearts than you To realize these are my chickens coming home to roost Today I see that I’m better off without you Maybe being happy involves some sort of truce Between the flowers you’ve grown and their roots And maybe the only thing there is left to do Is embrace life when its colors diffuse