This morbid fascination My unending procrastination I hold out for everything And come up with nothing My nightshade heart Plays it’s part A special place Not made of arterial lace Or venous denim or integumentary leather Made to endure every weather I hold our for a dark heart like mine One made not to sparkle, not to shine To a dark heart, these battle scars are fine To a dark heart, I will be thine.