Scriptures of love, versed with passion and fealty,
chaperoned by a terrible yearning that blazed all over my skin.
A fool for love, an idiot in-love,
I've killed myself with dreams of us,
heart turns to dust, and still remain tied at the tongue.
And set myself out to script letters each day,
how they burned with passion,
beguile me, I know you could be blinding,
for in this dream, I long not to be alone,
look, I paint it in vibrant hues,
I don't wanna die on my knees,
as just a breath in a bottle,
no, I'd die grey, caught in your endless sway.

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