my bleeding lips tell a story
expressed better than words could ever do justice
the rope burn on my wrist show a picture
no artist could ever find the color to depict
the trail of mascara running down my face
sings a song with notes impossible to reach
there's no better way to tell you but for you to look
look at me, the scars, the bruises... the smile
there's no better way to make you understand unless you touch
run your ice cold fingers over the brutal scratches
scattered on the body that you can't get enough of
and i'll do the same to the marks of passion i left across your back
they call us sadists, we get off on this pain too much
if they only knew the lust behind the high pitched screams
if they only felt the desire i feel when i see you, hazel eyes cutting into me