Dreaming of our “love/hate” ways so dear
But not now, no dreams will develop here
Today our room is painted with disturbance
With no luck, no hope, no chance
A pillow covers my face
Made of mattress lining and lace
If those 3 little words weren’t said
I wouldn’t be suffocating on your bed
Your fingers press deeper in the pillow
How could a naïve girl know?
That you would choke under this
And resent every last kiss.
Copyright 2004 direchangeling
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