Showing results for "Slow" in Gothic

No good ever comes from a red-head in a stolen dress with her worldly possessions at her feet. I should have known she was trouble when smoke and sin followed her into my bar and she challenged me to a game. She may have won my watch, but she started a war. As she slipped my Breitling off my wrist and onto her own, she gleefully announced she was the luckiest girl in the world. Yeah, lucky to everyone but me.

My world is on fire, and I’m obsessed with the girl who lit the match. Bloodied knuckles and a lifeless body at my feet confirm it: Penny is my demise. My gentlemanly façade is nothing but a memory. My sins are seeping through my shirt like ink. I tried to leave her. Couldn’t do it. I tried to snuff the life out of her. Couldn’t do that, either. So we’ll slow dance in the flames until I’m nothing but ash and embers. I’ll only rise like a phoenix when she’s gone. The problem is, I’d never let her go.