My dark friend
Angels and demons, why do we keep escorting those into our pathetic lives?
Are we yearning for something?
Are we?
My weakness is killing me; humanity's not my favorite dress, but nowhere to go, and it's better than nudity.
Roadblocks, unsatisfaction, flowers with blades, so-called love stories, broken lovers, zombie attitudes.
All on that narrow road, our road, and it's getting tighter.
Are we yearning for something?
Death is uncertain, justification is useless, nothing will survive in a breathing coffin, maybe question marks will endure.
No love story, nothing, nothing, nothing.
Fade if you can, fade in your question mark.