Shall I write a letter to the war
That we\'re not going to be home until 2035?
For 2035 is the year of the rage
I\'m telling you, it is
For seasons change for a reason
In my hometown,
And love will not be relevant soon
For in 2035 we may not be alive
We might be buried in the grave
But at least we\'ll be together;
What is a gun without bullets
When the bullets have no fire?
Let a dying rose bleed in Harlem
But at least we\'ll be alive
For the moment anyway,
And you and I shall die in our best clothes
You in a fancy suit
And me in a wedding dress
For here we come 2035...tomorrow will be sane
For I try to run away from my problems
But somehow I come back to you
And it\'s the only way
I can cure my insanity,
Two gangsters falling in love
Is an awaiting for a disaster
I can only cure so much of myself, again
Behold; behold the waking love
I can only hold myself accountable
I cannot beat myself up for this
I love you, and only you
And tomorrow the civil war shall come
And we shall stand firm on every charge
And the masses will attack us, for sure
And 2035 will be dead;
And before we begin,
Shall we drink the blood of souls?
How about gazing at the stars one last time?
I want to hold your hand in the grave
For true love is blind to it all.