Confession Of The Profound Heart
Imaginary affair afflicting my brain.
by William Taylor
If you don't expose me to any confirmation;
I might just go insane?
Your connection is my appetite;
My eyes are bleeding signals.
I might just be invisible?
Desperate for your love,
Cause I'm vulnerable to agonizing pain
You can be the cure to my scars,
Or I might just blemish my veins.