Take you away
If I could I would take you far away
And our troubles and worries would all decay.
The sky wouldn't be blue and the grass wouldn't be green,
Because our preference would be more of a gothic scene.
The sky would be purple; illuminated by a full moon.
The ground littered with tombstones of thoses dying too soon.
The air carries a wind created from shinigami's wings
And soft floating whispers as the spirits sing.
My hand clasped in yours while we listen for words
to tell us the stories of tradigies occured.
Blood cakes the ground from murders past.
Silence haunts the scene from victims whose most recent breath was their last.
Ghosts take our hands; They send shivers down our spines
and whisper in our ears the date we're going to die.
As they tell us how it will happen smiles cross our lips.
Our eyes catch each other as we count the minutes we've left to live.
We let out sounds of delicious pain as demons dig their nails into our flesh.
They look into our eyes and read all the sins we dare not confess.
When we've not a drop of blood to spare they shoves us down to the blood splattered grass.
We close our eyes, drink in their torture, and breathe in loud painful gasps.
The world may not quite accept us because we're not at all nice.
Though I am sure we don't care; who said we were aiming for polite?
We will go to our world where worries and troubles decay.
I promise to take you there, as soon as we can get away.
If I could I would take you far away
And our troubles and worries would all decay.
The sky wouldn't be blue and the grass wouldn't be green,
Because our preference would be more of a gothic scene.
The sky would be purple; illuminated by a full moon.
The ground littered with tombstones of thoses dying too soon.
The air carries a wind created from shinigami's wings
And soft floating whispers as the spirits sing.
My hand clasped in yours while we listen for words
to tell us the stories of tradigies occured.
Blood cakes the ground from murders past.
Silence haunts the scene from victims whose most recent breath was their last.
Ghosts take our hands; They send shivers down our spines
and whisper in our ears the date we're going to die.
As they tell us how it will happen smiles cross our lips.
Our eyes catch each other as we count the minutes we've left to live.
We let out sounds of delicious pain as demons dig their nails into our flesh.
They look into our eyes and read all the sins we dare not confess.
When we've not a drop of blood to spare they shoves us down to the blood splattered grass.
We close our eyes, drink in their torture, and breathe in loud painful gasps.
The world may not quite accept us because we're not at all nice.
Though I am sure we don't care; who said we were aiming for polite?
We will go to our world where worries and troubles decay.
I promise to take you there, as soon as we can get away.
