I got my stitches stitched, I got my fixes fixed, In my aching head, I got my kisses slit. Our gossip lips stuttered every word I said, I said, I got your love letters, corrected the grammar and sent them back. It's true romance is dead, I shot it in the chest then in the head.
The whole point of being Goth is embracing one's internal misery. What do you suppose they do if they start to accidentally have fun? Pinch themselves?
Comments (13):
Show all commentsIn my aching head, I got my kisses slit.
Our gossip lips stuttered every word I said, I said,
I got your love letters, corrected the grammar and sent them back.
It's true romance is dead, I shot it in the chest then in the head.
xD