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Some nights |
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I thirst for real blood, for real knives, for real cries. |
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And then the flash of steel from real guns in real life really fills my mind. |
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Then I really miss what really did exist when |
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I held your throat so tight. |
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And I miss the bus as it swerved from us and almost came crashing to its side. |
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Sometimes the blood from real cuts feels real nice when it's really mine. |
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And if you want it to be real, come over for a night, we can really, really climb, and those blue bridge lights might really burn most bright while we watch that dark lake rise. |
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And if you really want to see what really matters most to me, we can just take a real short drive. |
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Just a drive into the dark stretch, long stretch of night, will really stretch this shaking mind. |
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And this room, unlit, unheated, and the ceiling striped, and the dark black blinds.... |
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I want to know this time if you're really finally mine. |
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I need to know that you're not lying, and so |
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I want to see you tried. |
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And I don't want to hear you say it shouldn't really be this way, because |
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I like this way just fine. |
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And there's nothing quite like the blinding light when that curtain's cast aside, and no attempt is made to explain away the things that really, really, really are b |
