false god

I stitched my hands together
so god might finally hear my prayer
but no one ever answer
and the only blessed thing I've known was
your hands in my hair

So kill me why don't you
hang me up on a wire
put me on display
a museum for all to see
The lover
The liar
My corpse will be covered in paint and turpentine
maybe then you'll look at me as though I am Devine

Choke me
I want your hands around my throat
so I won't ever say "I love you"
and when death takes me
use my blood to write your obituary

I've danced with your ghost
and cried like you were never there
I have worshiped you as a god
no wonder I've only ever heard empty air

Turn the Arteries of my heart into chords
play them as you would an old guitar
pluck them when your bored

I'll open up your chest
shove my hand inside
searching for a prize

We can become a tragic love story
only neither of us will die