Will you forget me when you start to rot?
Or will you think of times you held my hand
And waited for the bloody gash to clot,
While picking pieces off your skin in strands?
When shadows grew in length throughout the hills,
Was there a moment when you thought of us?
Or were you blinded by those neon thrills,
In tattooed arms of crass and easy lust?
In darkest nights I’m just another ghost,
A face you may encounter in a dream,
Inviting you to raise your glass in toast
To all the hearts we’ve bled out by the seams.
Remember, when you hear the final knell,
Your wasted love is all you’ll reap in hell.