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Crush

de The Birthday Massacre

Delicate like an infant.
So relative, if you see through me.
Jealousy a persistent whisper.
A gentle wind through a hollow tree.
Who are we, adrift and naked?
You hold my breath.
I save you a seat.
Fantasy of a quiet separation.
A double edge on the devil's seam.

We rise, then we dissolve. It's a deep black crush. It's a pale blue love.

And we know what we've become.
It's a pale blue love.
It's a deep black crush.

A new world oddity meets the commoner. Impulse. White blood. So high. Too soft.

Try to meet halfway.
Now we're up against a stone wall.
We crash.
Twin fire.
Blue ash.
Pink smoke.

Spirals in decline, one tied against the other.
Impulse. White blood. So high. Too soft.

Dissolving in the sky, swallowed in time.

We crash.
Twin fire.
Blue ash.
Pink smoke.

Soft to tell in an instant, fleeting.
Put to rest in the deep blue sea.
Separate in the dark white winter.
Melted back with a hollow plea.
What are we but a storm of sorrow?
Broken eyes and a mouth of bone.
Feel your heart beating slow like thunder,
bleeding out through the fire and stone.

We rise, then we dissolve. It's a deep black crush. It's a pale blue love.

And we know what we've become.
It's a pale blue love.
It's a deep black crush.

A new world oddity meets the commoner. Impulse. White blood. So high. Too soft.

Try to meet halfway.
Now we're up against a stone wall.
We crash.
Twin fire.
Blue ash.
Pink smoke.

Spirals in decline, one tied against the other.
Impulse. White blood. So high. Too soft.

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