All Of This Is Very Bleak

Noiree

Your cards and your letters;
your silent endeavours;
ostensibly guile;
credible I-would-nevers.

Your soft look and sharp eyes;
a pretty face, an ugly price;
your truth-baited prey that
you hunt with your dim lies.

A decorative face,
a shiny somebody.
Friends with the town but
a friend to nobody.

Hey Noiree,
the devil can't see its own horns;
roses don't feel their own thorns.
that's just the way that it is.

Hey Noiree,
you can't see what you've badly torn.
My notes in your diary's now worn.
I guess it's the way that it is.

Spiderwebs—your quick wit.
You damaged but never knew it.
Your intricacies so natural
you couldn't doubt your own bullshit.

Your trap-studded red gown;
your black suit and eyes round;
bewitched by the doe, I was
blind to the blood-hound.

A decorative face,
a shiny somebody.
Laugh with the town but
you cried with nobody.

Hey Noiree,
the devil can't see its own horns;
roses don't feel their own thorns;
that's just the way that it is.

Hey Noiree,
look at our poem you've scribbled on.
Your chapter in my book is long gone.
I guess it's the way that is.

The saddest thing is I had faith
in whatever hurt me so.
The saddest thing is that
you'll never ever know.

I know my tears were apathetic,
but my curses held the weight
of your wicked twisted kindness
that humbled my honesty.

A gaslit marionette;
first I had to break free.
I cut through your bullshit
and you bled all over me.

A decorative face,
but we both know better.
The ice in your heart could
have never burned hotter.

Hey Noiree,
the blood is yours, the ache is mine.
I didn't know the poison posed as wine.
That's just the way that it was.

Hey Noiree,
the blood was yours,
the ache was mine.