You better brace yourself cause the word is "action." Just know you've inspired this vernacular. A broken record is spinning in circles, adding dramatics to razorblade dances. Thinking to herself "he's coming back soon," but she can cut her wrists with vinyl for all I care. It doesn't matter; she can bleed all over my papers.
As I watch this sunrise cascade over top this desperate valley, it filters through my windowpane and sets ignition to my disdain.
Falling through a broken doorway, shattered vinyl covers the floors. A silhouette on her cell phone, darkness makes her feel so alone. Forging forward through this city, as these towers shriek above me. For the walls inside are bleeding, and my demeanor is fleeting.
You better brace yourself cause the word is "action." The cameras are rolling, the film is up to speed, and everything is still in slow motion. She was the starlet, now she's the harlot, and she is the victim of the murder scene in a pile of her own blood, and I am smiling, but I can't stop thinking about her. I know she's an infection in my veins.
It doesn't matter if she bled all over the pages of my notebook, because they're all about her. I fucking loved her.