Love is a graveyard
for lust and dirt and trouble
wickedness and trouble.
Forgive me, love
And I've carved my name
on the livers of my lovers,
the hearts of all my brothers.
Forgive me, love
So take away your poet's pen
And never speak of love again
Break the hands that made a pair
And never will you need to care
Anyway
And I’ve cast my stones
at all the guilty others
(...???)
of my design
and I marked my kills
with scratches on the bedpost
the bloody sheets and dirty clothes
of English flowers across the floor
So take away your poet’s pen
And never speak of love again
Break the hands that made a pair
And never will I need to care
Anyway
And I’ve carved my name
on the livers of my lovers
the hearts of all my brothers
Forgive me, love
So take away your poet’s pen
And never speak of love again
Break the hands that made a pair
And never do I need to care
Anyway
And never speak of love again
And never speak of love again
And never speak of love again
And never speak of love again
And never speak of love again