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Where dose reality end and the nightmare begin?
I close my eyes and dream up a perfect world inside my head,
and in that dream she's fucking dead
Why can't it be real? I want to hurt her;
she's justified her own murder
No rose is without it's thorns,
and my blood is fresh on yours
With one hand I stroke her hair,
while the other attempts to remove a heart that's not there
I want to see her name carved in stone
No rose is without its thorns,
and my blood is fresh on yours
