These days are about as tasteful as stale bread
But they\'re still something to feed on
Call it melancholy icing or angst riddled crust,
still a bitter taste and foul stomach
Suck on her conscience so she\'ll love you again
Leech her heart and her lust
Bomb her docks with sorrow and pity parties
I\'ll noose the flame so the child can whimper
Cry and cry a river of redundant tears
And I\'ll get drunk of your words of consolation once again
Funny, how I\'m killing you so my heart can still beat,
I guess it\'s just like what you do best
Could we together ignore the apathetic clouds?
Rolling in and spitting down drops of sadism
Pleasure in my bruised heels and snipped sack
Oh well, guess it\'s better than drowning completely
...