Beauty Is In Its Embrace
by Anatomy of a Ghost· from Evanesce
inside display of broken wings so smooth porcelain face cracks and flakes away
turns to pulse flying down telephone lines to the pictures on your wall burning on contact
and the branches were stripped under winters numb hand
with the breath that was the fire burning through the room
and we won't come back under back drop of mountains above pastels
in flames that crawl up time won't stop for loss.
and the branches were stripped under winters numb hand
with the breath that was the fire burning through the room.
it hits the back seat tearing fabric from the lines till the clouds come to swallow the night
leaving less piled on the floor this one hands you the all we fall.