The roses that you gave me that night
Withered for good after all this time
Only dry thorns still cut like a knife
And I bleed like I don’t want this life.
I used to touch them to hurt myself
I wished to kill the heartbreak with pain
But all the cuts couldn’t bring me to death
And I was pouring just like a blood rain
It wasn’t enough, I had to pour harder
So I took a knife that was hidden from me
I looked in the mirror and took off the armor
I became vulnerable, just like I wanted to be.
So I cut my nose just to spite my sad face
I wounded the good and was the butt of the joke
The luck of the draw only draws the place
Where all my heroes die in the smoke
