It's high time you lose your grip on me
Even as your hands stay in the past
I always feel the ghost of you
Even as you still draw your breath
Do you really think you'll taste that golden light?
A blighted flower can only wither away
You rot my roots so that's where I will remain
But when the water turns ice-cold
I'll still wash my wounds alone
I will remember what you've done till I die
Even now in the night I still dream about the sight
Of your stomach twisted with a knife