fireworks
clawing
at the threshold of the door
afraid
to see what's inside of me
and
face the fact that everything dies
looking
at the tables overturned in my heart
at
the cross you bore and a crucible to catch the lies
this
is my story, this is my song
i
pretend to be strong and free
and
in my attempt for glory
all
the stones cast in the sky are aiming for me
drag
me down into the dust
lift
me up to the king of the air
drop
me from the talons
if
i'm washed white as snow will i rust
a
little boy with a dangerous toy called free will
it's
like a cherry bomb in my hand
it
explodes and i lose my fingers
picking
them up off the ground
and
putting them back on to collect temptations that linger
this
is my siren
this
is my lover
she's
a bittersweet girl named sin
the
more she makes me feel better
the
more she brings me disease
each
time i let her in
this
is what you get
this
is what you paid for
i
guess you got jipped
we
humans are hardly open books
and
all our pages are ripped
speaking
metaphorically
trying
to find some peace of mind
but
in this bleeding heart it don't compute
that
humanness and peace will never rhyme
dragged
through the mud tied to a pale horse
by
the rider of pestilence
further
complicating my existence
and
my half hearted cries of penitence