Her love is her punk guilt — his dishonesty is his perverse pride.
Pretty pink lady
You rescue him like an angel above
But you know deep down you can’t save him
From the dark side of his love.
Punk guilt and sexy shame
For the dirty little things you do
Won’t stop his mind from wandering
Was his loyalty ever true?
So you find yourself in heart’s heaven
Or hellish purgatory of the mind
Within you lies a longing
Your punk heart may never find.
Can you see her in red? She sees red in your dark light. Evil prevails, but adds fuel to Good’s fire.
What is this feverish pitch?
A high-power flute in the ear
Come near me and we will weep together
But don’t come back —
My heart can’t squeeze any tighter
My gut pain hasn’t subsided
You are not my dark light
You are figments of bright evil
You are darkness at best and charlatan fallen-angel at worst
Curse you —
You’ve too vile a smile
Work to keep your lady in red
Or rot in nothingness —
Don’t taint my mind with poison
Dark light was the mental illness, not the cure to lonesomeness.
Her love, her faith; she gives herself the gift.
Christmas holds the gift
For years before she could not feel it
Lost in the snowy haze
Of her mind, she could not see it.
Selfish and contrived
Never by choice, but by sculpted faith
Or lack thereof, she wandered
Distracted from her place.
Here she has a home
With or without her knight
It’s more than she could bear
Her tears of joy followed by the sight —
Of a wish to have her heart
All to herself again
It may be in his hands —
Though, with love of self, she wins.