Agnes

Take a look at my body, look at my hands. There's so much here that I don't understand. Your face-saving promises, whispered like prayers. I don't need them. 'Cause I've been treated so wrong, I've been treated so long, as if I'm becoming untouchable. Well, contempt loves the silence; it thrives in the dark, with fine winding tendrils that strangle the heart. They say that promises sweeten the blow but I don't need them, no I don't need them. I'm a slow-dying flower, in the frost-killing hour, sweet turning sour and untouchable. I need the darkness, the sweetness, the sadness, the weakness, Oh I need this. I need a lullaby, a kiss goodnight, angel, sweet love of my life, Oh I need this. Do you remember the way that you touched me before, all the trembling sweetness I loved and adored. Your face-saving promises whispered liked prayers, I don't need them. I need the darkness, the sweetness, the sadness, the weakness, Oh I need this. I need a lullaby, a kiss goodnight, angel, sweet love of my life, Oh I need this. Well is it dark enough, Can you see me, Do you want me, Can you reach me, Or I'm leaving. Better shut your mouth, and hold your breath. You kiss me now; you catch your death. Oh, I mean this.