Mother of Mary, my eyes burn
Forgot to wash my hands and now my eyes sting
Contamination of the cornea
Redder than that of a third-degree sunburn
The iris bleeds beauty, though average
Setting groundwork for many fished-up compliments
The white bleeds for real
I'd rather go blind than feel the sting another second
Mother of Mary, my heart hurts
Forgot to yeild caution and now my heart's broke
Corruption of all my innocence
Tainted like that of an old used-up ghost
This soul bleeds with beauty, though average
Foundation of a life of pain to come
But I bleed for real
I'd rather die than feel the sting another second
Eyes are to hearts as dreams are to stars
Burning and useless, seeing inside and untouchable
Til you open up wide to see and scream vulnerability
Til you open up wide to the sting
Copyright 2005 WhiteHorse
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