Mourning Misery
Blood Red Grave
how elegant our hate
delicate is our fate
like a dried out rose used to mark the end of our book
distance seperated by a flame that we are all drawn to
so we dance along the mishaped line of 1,000 soldiers at war with themselves
self sacrifice can only hide the guilt inside so we hide our faces in the ashes of our past
unable to look back
i can see the end of the path laid out for me
it drags me along and i when i try to hold back my legs fail me
so i scream to the sound of all the tortured souls who have come and burnt before me
can i be placed aside so what i dread may pass?
or is it my destiney to suffer the consequences of loving my grave covered in blood red roses and surrounded by a circle of paper cut out hearts
how was i to know that this spark we had would kill us all?
From Letras Mania