Believe What You Will
Call me the next Suicidal stereotype And hand me the knife, But don't presume to know How I will use it. The fire burns in my hand To match the flame in my heart That you stubbornly doubt, And I will show you Just how hot my passion is. Rend me, tear me, cut me again, (Or I'll do it myself) When the blood pours over your hands There will be nowhere else to go. It's so easy to find the words To free yourself from this truth; You might as well be swearing For the way it sounds, But you might as well be silent For all the good it does. I dance my path in the dark Over knives and broken glass And you still believe that All my scars are by my hand. Written August 25th, 2001 © on Aug 25 2001 02:16 PM PST 0 • 1
AI analysis available. Enable JavaScript to interact.
About this line
"Call me the next..."