Everytime you lay your eyes on me
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I might ask you to whisper softly what you meant when you said
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I'm not right and love is dead
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November rains more than this month
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Lasting through much longer than your touch
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So ask yourself why look so desperate on any given day
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Walk beside me through windows painted glass
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Don't expect me to go through this decay
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Make a liar out of me and work your magic
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I can't ask the same of you
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For I'll discover your insides rot as will mine doing what you do
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Oh these days they get so hard, so hard to follow through
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Any one of those days, I'll see that knife go through
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Everytim that I see you there I might ask you just to not stare
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What you meant when you said that I'm not right and love is dead
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-----------------
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Don't Rob Me Of This Hate
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| A Storybook Ending |
