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It's 3:18, mouth tastes like the corpse of every pregnant teen,<br />
The minutes are hours, the hours are days,<br />
I feel infected by your presence, you speak in tounges,<br />
I smell the lies dancing on your blackened lungs,<br />
<br />
I whispered in your ear: <br />
Fear me dear, for I am Death,<br />
I'll take your hope, your dreams, your love,<br />
Till there's nothing left<br />
<br />
I'll steal the diamonds from your eyes,<br />
I'll turn your promises into lies,<br />
<br />
I could make it December every day,<br />
But you're so blind, it may as well be May,<br />
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