Slice open the sacred vein
With that cold and silver blade
Let rivers once so pure
Run down the palest skin
While all your pain
Sinks into oblivion
Repeat the words
It doesn’t matter
He doesn’t care
It doesn’t matter
He doesn’t care
Old words repeat and find their way into my ears. Lies surface and I feel worthless. Without respect, what’s left? I love and trust, but feel left in the dust. I am lied to and hated. There are times I wish I could follow through on those words above, times I can feel them opening my skin, times I feel the pain. But it’s all part of a vivid imagination, a need for escape.
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