Glassjaw

Yesterday you threw a spear
and now you think you're getting it back?
Yesterday you threw a bloody mess with a cross through my face
and now you think you get it back?
London's sin of a brain.
I needed it this way.
Oh, not you. Nothing, not you.
Not you, nothing not you.
Driven from the pink rose petals inside my head
I'm shining tombstones, trying to raise the dead.
Didn't you try to shave with one hand?
Didn't you try to shave once?
I wanted it this way. I needed it this way.
I wouldn't die would you be my savior?
I wouldn't die would you be my kind?
Nothing's dead in my bed.