Vendetta Red. Depressionesque. Zeneszám

Imprisoned in perfume
I smell her in my blanket when I'm sleeping
Strange how they hurt you
stinging memories they break your heart
And it's gone so fast
The only girl I ever loved is slipping through my hands
I blew a kiss, waved goodbye
turned my head and hid my eyes so you wouldn't see me cry

Count me out cause I'm a mess
A twisted accident a psychological wreck
A bruising sentiment


We'll count back and curtsey
The curtain falls and I begin to burn
We stand out like statues
impervious to pardoning our French