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The blast was terrible, heard for miles, felt for weeks, months
(all the bed linens are covered with tear-diluted mascara)
will I ever sleep again, eat until I'm full, not force a smile?
(I'd so much rather him hate me than pity me)
when will the time come that I don't shake all over and rock myself in bed?
(he's so beautiful, but now he is kept behind glass)

Once I believed...
it was better to be loved than hated
Now I know the truth
Amare e' morto
(love is dead)
Odiare e' meglio che amare
(it is better to be hated than to be loved)
Hate me, please, so that I can deal with this shockwave
spit in my face when I beg you not to change
(it would be like spring water in this desert)
I still love you so much....
(I hate you)