[ach-em!]
you think you've loved
well
um
excuse me
for seing past your lies
deceit
gathered up whats
um
left
for me
scattered notes
and
bits of saline
doesnt hurt 'till you
make me bleed
with the prescence of yours
truely
i abolish all that makes me
unclean
your love
your lies
the future
unseen