I caused the weight carried on you, rosy pain behind your skin
Both brown eyes soft from tears and sleep you quoted Huckleberry Finn
'All right, then, I will go to hell, my Lord is worthy that complaint',
He is my drug, you are my pain.
A stack of notes and memories hold place for when your lover leaves
Without you I've got no cause, to step out into the throes
Of a day without your print, affections I cannot believe
You're my delight my enemy, my delight my enemy
Did you expect my constant love or see the coming of this day
I hope to be what you dreamed up, even if that man is a shame.
I am consumed by your bias, I am the prism you shine through,
I am your light I am your frame.