I am the bomb that's meant to burn
and burn I will in killing terms
and wound the weak, the meak, and poor
a hundred fold, a hundred score

and in the flames you'll burn and rot
and be the few that time forgot
when every tragedy has masked
the one before but not the last

this semblance is a dreadful thing
of needing you in fading dreams
and this is what you've made of me
one last ticking entity

a title for a magazine
a news flash filled with violent screams
and nothing you can do will stay
down on your knees I watched you pray

you swore to me you said forever
you thought that you could be so clever
loving him behind my back
look at the anger you exact

the vengence still that haunts this man
the blood is now upon your hands
and everyone that you once knew
will be the very death of you

since their death screams a melody
that mirrors your infidelities
I hope this gunshot still rings true
I loathe even the death of you

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