Junkyard God - Pig Destroyer

My knuckles are bleeding on your front door

And these flowers are wilting in the rain

They were for you and now they are for no one

They are irrelevant as mercenaries in times of peace

They are smoke twisting off the lips of a movie star

Here is a boy with paper skin who longs to touch the girl of broken glass

She loves it when he wears his skin like that

In tatters