From far away this looks like scissors and red paint stuck in black lines that keep comming on and on until the wrists collaspe.   And these wounds could swallow me whole if only 1 was ready to go. Thank god for paper knives and skin of masking tape.   The Valentines have torn themselves apart, waiting for you. And the cardboard hearts are digging there own graves dying to be with you.   This late at night whispers and gunshots sound the same. But i wont breathe down the barrel- in and out until my lungs turn black.   So much for wooden guns and the plastic bullets i saved.The Valentines have torn themselves apart, waiting for you. And the cardboard hearts are digging there own graves dying to be with you.   We're still waiting for you, We're still dying to be with you. I used to love it when you touched me in the eyes and you'd say-be mine,(Iv Always Been Yours)