once again    you're flashing me those blues    and i'm remembering why i'm wasting days    if i had the nerve    i'd drain all your beautiful    all you're good for is burning bloodstreams    each movement makes music    a chemical touch that would send shocks    but you're destined for display only    the most i could hope for is to smear the glass    these heavy fingertips    leaving trails of scattered skin and cracked porcelain    tell me what i haven't got    because i'd kill to get it    tell me what i haven't got    don't tell me, he's got it    who's on the receiving end of those perfect lips