Momento Mori Antemasque

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She was tied down to the tracks in the middle of the road
Clutching to the thorns of a rose that she fought but she couldn't let go
Couldn't let go

Perched upon his lungs, she was typing in his chest
I'll be hiding in the dreams of your last will and testament
Testament

And if the only way out was just a straight-ahead admission of guilt
Then he wouldn't be sitting in the darkness, sharpening every excuse

You hit the bottle
But you can't drink the yellow out of your spine
If you would, if you would, if you would…

You hit the bottle
But you can't drink the yellow out of your spine
If you would, if you would, if you would…

Smothered by the torment he could never forget
Disassociation in the comfort of his dreams that she wouldn't let go, wouldn't let go

And every time he woke up in the coldest sweat
Scrawled to the bone with her nails was the promise that she wouldn't let go
Wouldn't let go