The New England Holiday


Drowning in the beauty, I wish I didn't have to think about you anymore
These red cloth petals bleed
I'm whispering goodnight kisses on your cheek
Lately I can't seem to believe we are the dead
These windows with their promises seem to change the scenery before you fall asleep
And you'll never know, although I'll never your pale face framed by dark hair
And when it feels like rain, put the gun to your head
And when it feels like rain, drive these nails through my wrists
And when it feels like rain, ask me to forgive you
Hey baby, don't you know, I'm doing alright these days
My blood, your hands
My hands, your throat
I don't believe in fairy tales any more and this glass casket of borrowed dreams will only open old wounds yet again
She's nothing but porcelain underneath her skin
Blessed are the heartless, blessed are you







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