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This is what the edge of your seat was made for; Holding on, nothing to lose. And this is what the back of your hand was made for; Stolen apologies. You're a traitor to my heart, you're a traitor to us all. Forsaken. This over indulgence of consciousness has torn a day apart, and lingered in the splendeaour of the feeling in my stomach. Trailing down the shadow of cupped hands, covering my face away from the need to talk to my miscalculation. We're all movie stars, we're all movie stars, we're all movie stars. And I'm speaking these words, and I'm talking to the mirror. You're a traitor to my heart, you're a traitor to us fucking all. And I don't want to kiss anyone but you, I fucking love you.
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