Boys Night Out - Broken Bones And Bloody Kisses

Boys Night Out - Broken Bones And Bloody Kisses lyrics

The Only Honest Lovesong
This Broken Killswitch
Victor Versus The Victim
Sketch Artist Composite
A Torrid Love Affair

The Only Honest Lovesong

The air tears at my skin
Robbing my veins of the life
I'd hoped to have
You killed a part of me tonight
And left the frozen air to finish the job
Now I realize
The cowardice you kept behind your bloodshot eyes
And awkward frame was calling the shots
And I was left depleted
Grinning like a retard who thought you were there
When you had retreated

I'm slowing down into a shallow circle
While my heartbeat fills the gaps
Between sporadic and failing gasps
I'm face down in the mud
My eyes still bruised and purple
While my heartbeat fills the gaps
Between sporadic and failing gasps
I'm slowing down into a shallow circle
While my heartbeat fills the gaps
Between sporadic and failing gasps.
I'm face down in the mud
My eyes still bruised and purple
While my heartbeat fills the gaps
Between sporadic and failing gasps

And I swear
If I could take this knife out of my back,
I would, I would
But between the loss of blood
And the loss of my trust in you,
I don't think it'd do any good.

Now I realize
The cowardice you kept behind your bloodshot eyes
And awkward frame was calling the shots
And I was left depleted
Grinning like a retard who thought you were there
When you had retreated

I'm slowing down into a shallow circle
While my heartbeat fills the gaps
Between sporadic and failing gasps

If love existed
We wouldn't be so soft
And easy to ruin
If love existed
We wouldn't be so soft
And easy to ruin

This Broken Killswitch

so here's the sum of our parts
an overwhelming willingness to expire
and ugly hands that were built for breaking
the ugly second chance that i'm taking.

go
we'll realize that we're brilliant at dying as more bullets kiss,
and more blades cushion our akward movements.
so don't look at me when we all run out of room for caring,
and bury hope with our useless hearts.

i'm digging graves for everyone,
and my hand is getting tired from
writing out this killing spree.

so it's reaching time. reach for home where
everyone is waiting to forget you.
reach forward and prop yourself up on
the smiling skulls of liars.
i'm reaching into my pocket,
but the gun's gone off.

you want to talk about pain?
let's talk about pain, motherfucker.
it's something i know everything about
and soon you'll understand why.
please stop me before i kill again.

i'm reaching in my chest,
but the killswitch on my heart is broken
and i've been dead for years...
and then i realized the truth;
we're forest fires waiting to happen,
and buildings designed to collapse.
i can't wait to watch you burn and fall.

Victor Versus The Victim

This is the sound of tooth against bone
Against cheering crowds and broken homes
This is the sound of tooth against bone
Against cheering crowds and broken homes
This is the end of my rope

So bite down
Tell me how this concrete tastes
And tell me for the last time that you're sorry
So I can laugh out loud as I watch you
Struggle; broken, bloody, barely breathing, yeah
The truth is, there's been an autumn in me
And it's been that way since May

Yeah, I've hoped forever
Diminishing myself with my unconscious

This is the sound of tooth against bone
Against cheering crowds and broken homes
Yeah, this is the sound of tooth against bone
Against cheering crowds and broken homes
This is the end of the line

And my shoes, ripped and ruined from running,
Have finally found their final resting place, yeah
At the base of your skull and once again
Someone's left to clean up your mess

Once again someone's left to clean up your mess
Once again someone's left to clean up your mess

Sketch Artist Composite

i can't believe how smart you think you are.
do you even know i'm right behind you and that i saw you stumble home?
yeah i was there when you took that breath
unaware that it would be your last one.
i'm sure that you would have said goodbye
and i know that everyone will miss you.
no, i'm not sorry for what i've done.
close your eyes i'm gonna make you famous.

and i never got to know you
and i never knew your name.
yeah, life's not fair...but you know it
has a strange way of working out. (x2)

my god, it's beautiful the way the crimson syrup drains away.
the art in the knife as it lathers red milk.
you are my canvas.

and i never got to know you
and i never knew your name.
yeah, life's not fair...but you know it
has a strange way of working out. (x2)

A Torrid Love Affair

The first time I saw a body bend that way
I realized that we're more beautiful dead than alive
With bloodied flesh removed, your rib cage ripped away
And I saw why they say beauty comes from the inside

''It won't be the same this time around''
You'll never be the same again
''I promise to never forget you''
You'll ''remember me
For as long as you live
And your life ends right here, right now
As I tear your heart apart''

I'll take your hair with me,
Wrapped around my bloodied knuckles
As a soft, silken reminder
''Of the day you discovered
That even the softest words
Can't heal the deepest wounds
I pray that they find you
And use the softest words
To hide the hardest truth''

''I'm covered in your blood
It's over. We're better.
One day we'll forget you
Were so right and so clever

I'm covered in your blood
It's over. We're better.
One day we'll forget you
Were so right and so clever

I'm covered in your blood
It's over. We're better.
One day we'll forget you''

I'll take your hair with me,
Wrapped around my bloodied knuckles
As a soft, silken reminder
''Of the day you discovered
That even the softest words
Can't hide the hardest truth
I pray that they find you
And use the softest words
To hide the hardest truth''

'''(Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer)'''
''Henry:'' If you shoot someone in the head with a .45 every time you kill somebody, it becomes like your fingerprint, see? But if you strangle one, stab another, one you cut up, one you don't, then the police don't know what to do. They think you're four different people. What they really like, what makes their job so much easier, is pattern. What they call a modus operenda. That's Latin. Bet you didn't know any Latin, did ya Otis?
''Otis:'' Big fucking deal.
''Henry:'' What?
''Otis:'' Nothing.
''Henry:'' It's like a trail of shit, Otis. It's like the blood droppings from a deer you shot, and all they gotta do is follow those droppings, and pretty soon, they're gonna find their deer.
''Otis:'' Why don't you use a gun?
''Henry:'' You can use a gun. I'm not saying you can't use a gun. Just don't use the same gun twice.