I hope a thorn bush catches my skin
And tears me open
For the world to see
And then maybe you could see
Because you need security
But you still run, run... run away

There's no red exit sign above our souls
Killing such an idol only shows
There's no one to drag away our bodies in time
Two lovers lay dead in their prime

I hope a thorn bush cuts you up
And you can bleed
All over this town
And drench everyone with guilt
And now it’s on you
But you still run, run... run away

There's no red exit sign above our souls
Killing such an idol only shows
There's no one to drag away our bodies in time
Two lovers lay dead in their prime

The next time I ignore you I won't forget
The more I run the closer you will get
You can’t change the errors you can’t see
It’s been wasted

[we don't read & write poetry because it's cute.
we read & write poetry because
we are members of the human race.
and the human race is filled with passion.
the medicine involved in this engineering
these are noble persuits
and are necessary to sustain life.
poetry, beauty, romance, love...
these are what we stay alive for.
the powerful play goes on,
and you may contribute a verse.
the powerful play goes on,
and you may contribute a verse.
what will your verse be?]

There's no red exit sign above our souls
Killing such an idol only shows
There's no one to drag away our bodies in time
Two lovers lay dead in their prime

If this is drawn out then you should see the sky
That I drew under the blink of an eye
When you broke the hearts of those who knew
What it was to be wasted