SWITCHBLADE ROMANCE (IS SHE OK?)

I want someone who's got a conscience sharper than a knife
I know too well what a fair mind can cause
And, after all, life's little but a spectacle of strife
Where, if you're lucky, you get some applause

I need to find someone as sick with blood that's just as cold
As the desire running through my veins
It's strange how after seeing something pure get bought and sold
I'm only ever thrilled by scarlet stains

It's funny how I crave a gentle hand that's set to kill
No lover's hand has ever brought me pleasure
Oh, I've been kissed and I've been loved, but I am feeling still
My flesh only a murderer would treasure

Maybe he'll cut me with a knife or try to feed off me
Maybe he'll put me through another hell
Or maybe I'll sit still and patient just to make him see
How little it all means to me as well

I'll tell him I've killed everything that made me who I am
I'll tell him I've grown hollower and stronger
And if his taste is similar to that of Son of Sam
I'll say my hair used to be dark and longer

He will respond: "You are so sweet", I'll say "you are a dear"
We will discuss our common dark disease
Then we'll get closer, without expectations, doubt or fear
And do unto each other as we please

My knee is scratched, his elbow's swollen, crimson all the way
Below feels great, who cares about above
But though I ache all over now, my soul, she is OK
And that's how it should feel to be in love

And then he'll end it, quick and clean, just like we'd both agreed
What's wrong? I fear death less with every day
And when my blood gets far too cold, that's just the guy I need
To make it run, yet keep my soul OK

First time my heart broke, baby, I thought I was gonna die
The second time I thought I'd start to kill
This time I long for madmen and it seems the reason why
Is this black emptiness I need to fill

Whatever I am looking for, it won't be in this world
It's all the same now if I curse or pray
I want to join you lot in scarring every other girl
Let's see if any will remain OK

I need someone to tell me I have really lovely knees
Who cares if they remind him of his mother
And who cares if he left her body scattered through the trees
I can't hope to be wanted by another

I'd rather get chopped up and raped than feel your kiss again
Yet -you- dare claim you're hurt by what I say
I'm much more scared of your love than of any wicked man
With each of them, I would feel more OK

So I'll keep breathing on until someone decides it's late
And takes my life, my chronic dark disease
Or, maybe, he will spare me as a priceless source of hate
He'll look at me, he will think twice and thus rewrite his fate
Destroyer and destroyed one share a strange lust to create
And feast upon each other as they please