Cut me, cuts me, cuts so deep,
A fear of you, a fear of me,
My heart implodes, irony,
Come to me, come to me.
Shape me in the headstone,
A memory dead, alive.
Hold the hand that suffers,
And inside feel the cry.
Drop like tears on cement,
feel the burn of love.
Blood is tricking, drip,
from the wound of doves.
A lovers heart to bend and twist,
a pleaders blade to cut the wrist,
and by and by we stand still naught,
To wish and be what we are not.