Nothing personal
Nights are left unchanged
Facing made-up mirrors
In vampire rhythms
Nothing is too simple a word
Nothing personal, just serious and dull
A hand in the curve of a neck
Now is not the time, nothing personal
Just serious and dull
Expectations. one can expect to be in need
And yes, being needed is better indeed
Nothing personal, no room to improvise
Hair, black, like knives of shadow
Tearing the space between fingers
Crawling up the curve of a neck
Now is not the time, nothing personal.