Death Is My Lover And

She's Talking About Herself In The Third Person Because The Idea Of Being Who She Is, Of Acknowledging That She Is Herself, Is More Than Her Pride Can Take.

It Is Myself I Have Never Met Whose Face Is Pasted On The Underside Of My Mind

Your Hair Is An Act Of God.

Only Love Can Save Me And Love Has Destroyed Me.

I Dread The Loss Of Her I've Never Touched Love Keeps Me A Slave In A Cage Of Tears I Gnaw My Tongue With Which To Her I Can Never Speak I Miss A Woman Who Was Never Born I Kiss A Woman Across The Years That Say We Shall Never Meet Everything Passes Everything Perishes Everything Palls My Thought Walks Away With A Killing Smile Leaving Discordant Anxiety Which Roars In My Soul No Hope No Hope No Hope No Hope No Hope No Hope No Hope