Bride or Groom?

You're making out with the lips of the no longer living. 
Trying to suck what's left, if anything, 
of their souls from their limp mouths. 
Staring into pools of black isn't all you expected it to be, 
is it? 
You're tuxedo seems to have gotten tighter as you're lingering on 
the enticing kiss of death. 
This insistent persistence shapes your hands into 
shovels to help re-dig their graves. 
These games don't fly without the gift of gullibility.
Is that our only connection?

IDENTITY CRISIS!

From Folsom 
straight into my veins 
sprouts the pipe that leads us to them. 
Hide & seek - or so you say... 
By now, all the champagne is dried up 
to match how dressed up my heart is. 
What else is there left for us to do? 
I can't crack these codes to 
solve the puzzlement in my eyes. 
You took one step 
and now my skull is shattered alongside 
the glass I threw to the pavement. 
Oozing brains no longer 
able to take the reigns,
but I can still see you smile.


I'm the one who drank 
all that was left in the bottle 
and now I'm driving you home. 
I'm the car crash ahead. 
I'm the crushed champagne glass. 
I'm the one left standing at the altar 
and everything is just fine.