No Poetic Device
The Hanging Garden
Man In A Suitcase
Paper Airplanes (makeshift Wings) (demo Version)
The Great Disappointment (demo Version)
The Days Of Phoenix
Synesthesia (demo Version)
The Prayer Position
Love Is A Many Splendored Thing
Two Of A Kind
The Last Kiss
Hung in your room, swaying, hoping only that you'll see.
All by myself, I'm alone in such poor company.
The deeper I think, the deeper I seem to sink, I can't stop the insects that are feeding,
pull the needles from beneath my skin. I broke myself, shattered, tied a bow around every piece.
You'll love the eyes. Have they always shown so vacantly? The more I show the less you'll want to know.
I can't stop the insects that are feeding, pull the needles from beneath my skin.
Now I'm on display. I am becoming. Hurt myself today. It's all for you.
Do you like what I'm becoming? Cut myself today. It's all for you.
I part the night, flashing, approaching as I watch you flee.
Pushed through your panes. Seems I've landed quite uncomfortably.
But as I pass through souls of broken glass I can't stop the insects that are feeding.
Pull the needles from beneath my skin.
Next: The Leaving Song
Previous: The Hanging Garden