"All writers of confessions, from Augustine on down, have always
remained a little in love with their sins"
- Anatole France
When insects crawl beneath your skin
Unleashing vicious screams until you give in
I will gnaw them out of you
When the tracks appear to all of those so ashamed
And there is no one but you left to blame
I will help to heal you
While you chase what you will never again attain
And lie on cold cement beneath freezing rain
I will be there to freeze with you
When you're knocking on various strangers' doors
In desperate attempts to score some more
My door will be unlocked for you
When sweat is seeping from your filthy body
And lights flash to find your fingertips so bloody
I will try to hide the prints for you
And as you grip onto those cold brass bars
In dark seclusion where your memories now are
I will welcome my last breath with you
And during that last nostalgic moment
I will celebrate the fact that you still own it
And we'll speak of how I escaped with you
And a beautiful end to a tale so tragic
Will take place in those last sixty seconds as if prearranged by magic
Because although you've crashed;
I still love you