O' My Loving AssassinO' My Loving AssassinO' My Loving Assassin
I hold myself close to you, Cautious of your hidden blade through and through. You hold me, kiss me, Yet there is no 'we'. I hold and kiss you, But we are seperately two.
Your beautiful knife decends. I both shall and shall not make amends. Amends for these bittersweet touching of lips, and for these lives of hardships.
In naught but a word, It would be either love or hate. The latter is, for I, absurd, so who will fall for hook with sweet bait?
Tell me, my lovely belladonna. Where is thy next blade
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