Passion is now but strife just around the corner
Slinking closer, the tendrils of its presence precede it
The building tension peaks and I have to wonder
If the cataclysm of pain isn't the same as passion.
Tears, tears of anger dripping down my face
The rain of sweet love that's become twisted
Blood, the blue blood that flows red
That bleeds heavy and hot for you
Sweetest touches, slowly, lingering
Whispers of softness
Tearing through me, ripping me apart
Breaking my heart.