Deconstruction of the Heart

A draft in the ribcage, a hollow and cynical space,
You dissect the debris with a surgeon's cold, clinical grace.
Every wire of feeling is severed right down to the root,
And our silhouette is reduced to a powder of soot.
You draw up the fractures on sheets of expired decrees,
Injecting betrayal while claiming mitigating pleas.
The grammar of grief and the commas of calculated spite —
I’m just an exhibit in your gallery of night.


And you measure each breath with a ruler so bitter and small,
As if the grand finale surprised us after all.
But the valves are all jammed, and the paint starts to blister and peel,
We are looking for peace in a cage made of cold-rolled steel.

Припев
It’s a total deconstruction of the heart, take a look!
We ripped out the hinges and threw the remains in the brook.
Nothing is left but the springs and a fractured old code,
And our hopeless, pathetic, dead-ended maritime road.
You slice through the flesh by the lines on the architect's chart,
And this page is now clean, ripped completely and brutally apart.


Your cynicism's perfect, a highly calibrated gauge,
Do you remember the spark, or the pulse on the stage?
Now it’s just a museum of cold, domestic review,
Where instead of compassion, drops of water will do.
You’re hunting for flaws in the left atrium's fragile design,
In the archives of mercy that I never could claim as mine.
But there’s only receipts for the tea left to wither and sour,
And your careless, malicious: "Well, darling, this is the hour."


Under the microscope — ghosts of naive, tender days,
When we took for gospel the rules of your amateur plays.
But the masks slip away, showing plastic and synthetic shame,
And the doctor is leaving. I’m utterly sick of your game.


The final report will conclude with a fatal defect:
Our love only yielded a grim, adverse macro-effect.
The foundation sank, the main framework collapsed in the dirt,
And this bitter ending was promised before we got hurt.
I pack up your scalpel in a cold iron vanity case,
This cruel, twisted thriller has finally run out of space.

Припев
It’s a total deconstruction of the heart, take a look!
We ripped out the hinges and threw the remains in the brook.
Nothing is left but the springs and a fractured old code,
And our hopeless, pathetic, dead-ended maritime road.
You slice through the flesh by the lines on the architect's chart,
And this page is now clean, ripped completely and brutally apart.