texts.katyism.com

you want me to sell my soul away?
kill my heart trying to love?
no-one believes me.
I did once...
held to my palm.

I took his hand in mine
and found the truth buried
in his cold skin.

it was love... briefly.

the line so thin
it tore the barriers to the ground.

love can turn to hate so quickly...
and hate can push love to break.
the soul against itself, bent and crippled.
from ashes comes new life,

Ink on paper helps explain
what we can only feel but never have.

It smears, and with it
all the records dissapear
and we forget
the difference between what is,
and what will never be.