there’s something lovely about the way three am calls your name
how my therapist knows your game and all those words you played
but i sway, i speak your name — i don’t know afraid
lean back and relax as i bask in the thought of killing an ex
they say i might be insane, but it’s not because i laugh at pain
or the way i say your name in utter disdain
i can play the game, i can reign
i can drink your blood and bathe in your veins
they say it’s all in vain
how i kick back and relax in the thought of how many i’ve slain
i’m not insane, they’re all just mundane
it’s not my fault i like to kiss and then whisk their brain
i laugh — if only one day i forgot the cause of my distraught
possibly then i’d live without a cause, the hovering bomb would be lost
all the ghosts i’ve caused would no longer taunt and haunt
maybe then i could sit on a yacht, rot my skin and bleach my brain
kiss a shark and bask in the day when the words they spoke never caused pain
but that’s all a hypothesis and maybe i just like the dominance
the way they scream my name
how prominent their bones become when i squeeze their waist
the way their eyes taste when they die
especially that tough guy that started to cry
but then i awake and realize it was all just a dream
and the way they screamed through their teeth was just a theme
you might know my name, but you don’t know my flame
and you certainly don’t know my game the day i truly awake