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My Hands Are so Cold.


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My Hands Are so Cold


My hands are so cold
Your breath so hot
In my mind I scold
For I've missed my shot
Every day is rust, no gold
Copper coloured ink blot
In the secrets, untold
That reside in the bloodshot

Eyes, they see but what they wish
Tongue to teeth, lips on your fingertip
And blood stained clothes make the perfect dish
When pain comes before simple companionship

Lost in a world of another's creation
With my claws continuously aching
As I carve a path right towards damnation
With no regard for how my own mind is breaking
Under the pressure of securing a nation
That, with my own eyes, I will see as breathtaking
Yet, even still, I struggle to glimpse salvation
For I had it once, in your eyes, there was no mistaking
A beautiful love, grown from hate and starvation
But I fear I will never have the chance of retaking
Such, for I cannot argue with your rightful accusation
I just wish this goodbye wasn't so heartbreaking ...

My hands are so cold, covered in dust and ash
And even the fire raging on, leaving Hell in it's path
Leaving no chance at love, rather only this immanent clash
Cannot warm my fingers like your hot breath's aftermath ...

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