I make myself sick and I refuse to let this end

(I refuse to let this end)

Something far worse than a metaphor in my head descends

(my head descends)

How would I know when the sun should rise; it's the dead of the night and no end's in sight

I've been trying to tell you all along that my chance is gone but you don't listen to anyone

If I listened to you would I know the thoughts that had plagued your head?

Would it kill you to know the voice that's speaking them isn't your own?

When I feed I think of you

Drinking from your point of view

Bodies tied as they twist and writhe

Skin white your life drains into mine

(I refuse to let this end)

Something far worse than a metaphor in my head descends

(my head descends)

Arms tight head down

Skin becomes thin a bloodless caging

The last breath of a dying sun

Would capture anyone from a helpless life

When I feed I think of you

Drinking from your point of view

Bodies tied as they twist and writhe

Skin white your life drains into mine

When I feed I think of you

Drinking from your point of view

When you bleed do you think of me?

Or do you hide me away are you afraid?

We twist and writhe

When I feed I think of you

Drinking from your point of view

Bodies tied as they twist and writhe