Maybe I would've known if tonight I ended up dead on the cement.
Dripping from the crack in my skull: blood that wasn't read.
Words spilling out in forms: no one could identify what it said.
What I meant. Maybe I didn't even know that yet.
And that kid, dressed in white and black, running from the feds
wouldn't have escaped.
Stopped dead in his tracks, staring at what was left.
Red and Blue lit up before another free step, but what those cops would find is not what they'd expect.
Begin routine procedures, dead bodies aren't a threat.
Ignore the signs and warnings, not a worthy story, add it to the list of Nexts.
Analyzing blood samples: not the secrets that it kept. Dark thoughts and feelings hadn't left the cell, yet.
Your Love is a fleeting, deeply alien concept.
Do you really even know it? Do you unknowingly pretend?
They told me love is when you'd give yourself to death.
They say love your family, love your friends...
But they don't mean enough to throw my body off a ledge.
