I'm waiting
With a gun in one hand
Roses in the other one
I'm about to shoot
This illusion of us being equals
People who believe in their own lies
A different kind of breed, indeed.

I brought my hatchets with me
None of them are buried
They are more useful kept behind the door
Like a good luck charm
An assurance that the job will get done.

Genuine touch crumbles under my toes
Our chemistry is political
Your opinion is unwelcomed
Politely, tell me where to shove it
If not up your arse?

Pardon my hunger for blood
I haven't eaten in days
It seems as if I've never been hungry for love.

Too many secrets to...