Cyanide Lips

The mask you wear is not your own, a shallow grave you've never shown. I saw a knife preceding the apocalypse as you leaned in to frame this kiss. Obsessed by times, so scared of being alone, times you'd lost what holds your soul. But deep inside my eyes you saw I knew, you're dealing a hand once dealt to you. I've been where you're going, and believe me, it's not so bad, with hope as medicine to the miserable inside of all-consuming dread. So bring your chains, your lips of tragedy, and see the walls come tumbling down inside of me. Forget everyone and remain.