If I make it, to heaven, I may be as bloody as hell. Can I still get into heaven even if I kill myself? Or will you depart from me, for I am in the wrong body, It must have been by accident. I have good intentions, they get lost along the way.
Can I still get out? Or will you turn me down, I have love to give but it gets stuck in the void. And birds, they sing, trapped inside of my head. They swallow handfuls of nights to make shorter days. The beginning is the start of the end.
And every single world it echos, echos. For those birds are long gone.
And now it's all broken, because we walk the wrong way down the long road. But I still remember how you smiled, even if your evil became a profit., and walked away from me. In love with the idea of love with the idea in love with the vicious cycle of romantic tragedy. For the birds sing no more, they stand in the space between what is reality. And now It's gotten late and now I want to be alone, for I don't want to know how it ends anymore.
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