With a grimace, and a snarl...
The fox and wolf
Go round and round...
Faded, discarded papers,
Stolen photographs,
Broken hasps,
Locked lockets,
And unraveled dreams...
A broken mask
Hides the truth,
Disoriented,
And somber.
Each time,
The porcelain cracks
A little more...
They see one of your faces,
But they do not know
The filthy things you do,
Behind closed doors...
People are only as good
As their word,
And I have yet to ever meet
A decent one.
Wretched writhing worms,
All of them.
I am with you most
When you are all alone,
And thinking of sad things...
Broken crowns
And dreary deceptions;
Unless... Until...
All I am to you.