Slowly, I wait as we decay.
Just like autumn leaves,
drift down from their trees
and dry out to crumple
under footsteps, and suffocate
beneath winters heavy snow.
Is this what I have prayed for?
Thought that maybe you would change.
After you felt my love, I could save you.
I still need you, and you know that you need me too.
As you stumble back home with your track marks at dawn,
your dried bloody nasal, your cheap perfume on.
You rush straight to the shower
to wash off your filth as you try to recall
where the fuck you have been.
What would you sacrifice?
Would you burn with me?
I got these scars on my wrists
just to prove that I have bled for you.
Would you burn with me?
All alone once again,
waiting for you just to see me,
to know my name.
And I will be screaming
your name before I die,
I’ll long only to hold you,
to see you smile one last time.
What would you sacrifice?
Would you burn with me?
I got these scars on my wrists
just to prove that I have bled for you.
Would you burn with me?
And yet I know that you love me,
only because that was part of the deal.
I just pictured you treating your loved ones
a little differently.
And I hate all those people who ask,
“How's the wife?”
“Are you happy?”
“Can you feel anything at all?”
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