You and I, I and you
You've snickered in my dark, blowing out my flame.
You've been dancing naked on my walls
Warning me with shame.
If I am not the healer then I am the lie.
However, Saint Peter calls.
To this red iron gate, I walk the path, wishing I was you chewing on broken glass.
Your tongue told lies yet they were stories that lit up eyes till four in the morning.
When I was robbing the market you drove the getaway car we slept in the woods and you were gone by day.
I guess I should have waited if I could.
Maybe if I was the nice guy you'd stay.
However, I'm going to saint Peters's gate.
See you tomorrow, if not then I guess I was too late.