he'll crown her soon, his dying darling
in thorns of blue and red
he'll place a throne in her haunted cellar
and burn her when she's dead
he'll sweeten his tea with his dear ones debris
and soon again he'll wed
my insides are panting,
losing their mind
grasping and jerking,
calling me on
they're against me,
dance for me, strike me
and bore me
I am failing, losing against
nothings and nowheres
I run from the attic
but they've stolen the stairs
jump, or be grabbed
be stabbed by the knife
that carves in the words
this is you, here's your life
I want to be free
let me go, let me be!
he'll crown her soon, his dying darling
in thorns of blue and red
he'll place a throne in her haunted cellar
and burn her when she's dead
