Dead Hands

We'll stretch the skin out till it hurts

A smile from ear to ear

Your side of the story,

The worst

Attempt at preventing tears

Here I am, the archetype of words

Give me a moment!

And I'll make it worse!

The flesh it opens in cold blood,

It's put to paper with a

Constant upper hand I could

Claim to be at peace with it

Or I could set fire to your dying wit!

Welcome to heartbreak!

You're gonna drown in it!

And I'll be on the ocean floor!

Black hearts dead hands!

The ink has finally run dry from this lonely pen!

The cardiac arrest is worse

When honest spines are still

The blade it ruptures no remorse

But a hell of a way to feel

Your insides flatten out and flee the course

And a tangled conscience creates a new Cold War

I won't be your open door!

Black hearts dead hands!

The ink has finally run dry from this tragic pen!

Black hearts dead hands!

We'll sink down to the bottom while you're busy sifting sands!

Your cold dead hands! Those cold dead hands!

I'd like to thank the sands of time for burying us both just right!