• The dream I thought would become my fantasy
    Has weakened with age of a meadowed infirmary
    And so my past paints an ocean with crimson
    How will I escape this place again?

    As I lie in the bed of roses and vines
    The thorns grip me and pull me into red wine
    Swimming around me as I drown out of reach
    If only you could learn to be happy without me

    Don't waste each precious breath struggling for my hand
    Let life slip down your throat and I'll leave a smile where I stand
    Further and further I'm dragged down
    If one doesn't survive, both of us drown

    I reach for your hand, please feel my fingertips through the black
    Feel me to leave this tombstone without names written in the plaque
    But I grab hold of nothing but crimson
    Blinding me and holding my hand again

    The imagery of death is erased from my eyes
    Until he comes again to try and reap my life
    I made a promise the last time, and so I run
    To the arms where my mistakes may be undone

    A place of love and pesticide is where my body lays
    With a lover's heart in my hands for the rest of days
    Cradled in arms in a rose garden infirmary
    Is this the dream that will become my fantasy?