Mischief

Open hearts make open wounds.
Counting the seconds next to you.
Take these moments lost in time.
Organized or ostracized,
Be my doom, my gloom, my knife
Everything will be alright
Remember we are of the night.

Murder all my doubts for me
I am insecurity.
Stitch my flaws to your own
Can't be real, can't be known
Hold me in a death embrace
I need the kill, a ghostly gaze
Emanating from our mistakes, but
Finding solace inside your face, I just can't look away.