I never had an affair with the smell of iron, But now I'm gagging at the memory, And longing for the nostalgia. Melancholy addiction, I've never missed you more.
Shape me into you, Mold me into what you need. Someday, I'll swallow the words you say, And its going to taste like shotgun bullets. I'm the one pulling the trigger.
Iron madian littered with rose petals, I lay in the bed I made for myself. Flickering candles will put me in a trance, Melting my surroundings, dialate my excitement. Focusing on the flame distacts from the agony of spikes through my heart All I can smell are roses.