• Plucked and Plittered


    Pluck and Plitter, Pluck and Plitter.
    The fragrance of a rose is plucked and plittered.
    The symbol of love is evil and bitter.
    The sound of her scissors cuts and shivers.

    Pluck and plitter, Pluck and Plitter.
    She decides my fate with her thumb and index finger.
    Live or die, live or die she picks each petal playing with my life.
    The sound of each rip is plucked and plittered.

    Pluck and Plitter, Pluck and Plitter.
    The tears from my eyes are weak and dry.
    The reflection of me is too much of a sight.
    The sound of my chokes is plucked and plittered.

    Pluck and Plitter, Pluck and Plitter.
    The pain of knife stabs each of my fingers.
    The shame of myself laughing with such eager.
    The feeling of death had been plucked and plitter.

    Pluck and Plitter, Pluck and Plitter.
    Picking her fate makes me quiver.
    Seeing my screaming face has me dying of laughter.
    The destruction of my evil self has been plucked and plittered.

    Pluck and Plitter, Pluck and Plitter.
    If you haven’t figured out I’m the good guy now.
    Who says I can’t kill my other self in a torturing style.
    The sound of my heartbeat Plucks and Plitter.

    Pluck and Plitter, Pluck and Plitter.
    The petal of roses scatters on the floor.
    Her rotting body won’t cry any more.
    I smile as I close my bedroom door.

    Pluck and Plitter, Pluck and Plitter.