Oceanic tears

I could cry you a river,
You'd like that, no?
To drown yourself in the ecstasy,
To swim ashore in your appreciation.
I could cry you a river,
You'd like that, wouldn't you?
Everytime when you'd etch into me,
And everytime when I'd rinse off my sins,
Your remains would still be woven into me,
Maybe that is why your memory always win.
And now it's like I've never known a different way,
I've never known not to be insane.
On day's, I still round you up,
With a heart in my hand,
A little sanity I could've gathered,
If it wasn't for the knife with which you perforated.
With a Bleeding soul seeking to heal,
I could still bleed you river,
And you'd like that, or maybe not?
When the little peices of the soul would clog,
The adrenaline rush would be on pinch of fog,
A little by little I'd pop the pills,
Leaning on idiosyncrasy,
And a little questionable imagination,
My monster claws would dig onto me,
And I'll be diluting my love with vodka and whiskey,
And my skin with freckles underneath the concealers,
And a broken heart underneath a Starlite sky,
On illusions of movies and living a lie,
I'd still cry you a river,
In the sincerest child's smile,
And in your soul stirring art,
And in the magic of mundane,
You'd sit there to complain,
That I didn't die making it an ocean.