White Coffin Verse 1 In this white coffin, honey as glue, A velvet trap of a world built for two. Padded, polished — what harm could it do? Soft enough to silence a bruise. But the darkest places don’t need a door, Just a promise twisted into something you can’t ignore— And it keeps on moving, these coffins pristine, No footprints, no evidence, no in-between. Oh, what might a lovely blonde youngress do? With a halo bent just slightly askew— Where innocence fractures in porcelain light, And heresy hums like a lullaby you once knew. ⸻ Pre-Chorus You call it mercy dressed in white, Call it healing when it dims my sight— But every “good” thing tightens the noose, And every soft touch hides the truth. ⸻ Chorus White coffin, kiss me quiet, Call it love while I go silent— Paint me pure just to deny it, Turn my pulse into a riot. White coffin, sweet and toxic, Heaven shouldn’t feel this nauseous— If I’m holy, why do I feel so rotten? Buried alive in your white coffin. ⸻ Verse 2 And still she dances — the youngress in white, A ghost with a pulse under fluorescent light. Her footsteps stir petals that shouldn’t still move, Like something unfinished refusing the truth. Blood on blue lips, barely a drip, A galaxy blooms at the edge of the slip— White orchid theatres open inside, Every petal a secret she buried alive. Before the white, she was louder than this, All crooked edges and dangerous bliss— Now even her shadow stays out of the frame, Like it doesn’t recognize what she became. ⸻ Pre-Chorus You call it sacred when I disappear, Call it grace when I’m easier to steer— But every halo sharpens the edge, And every prayer feels closer to death. ⸻ Chorus White coffin, kiss me quiet, Call it love while I go silent— Paint me pure just to deny it, Turn my pulse into a riot. White coffin, sweet and toxic, Heaven shouldn’t feel this nauseous— If I’m holy, why do I feel so rotten? Buried alive in your white coffin. ⸻ Bridge (elevated) Was I innocent— Or just easier to erase? Did you love me, Or just the shape I gave? I wore your white like a wedding dress, Tight at the throat, called tenderness— If this is salvation, I must confess… I think I preferred the mess. ⸻ Final Chorus (lifted, more desperate energy) White coffin, kiss me quiet, Say it’s love while I go silent— Break me down and sanctify it, Turn my pulse into a riot. White coffin, sweet and toxic, Heaven never felt this violent— If I’m holy, why do I feel so rotten? Buried alive in your white coffin. ⸻ Outro (clean, haunting, memorable) And still she dances— The youngress in the coffin white… Before the white, Before the lie— She was alive.
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