love, though it’s nice being in your arms each night,

though i love being in your arms where i know i’m safe,

i can’t stay here forever without putting you at risk

my name and face are strewn about the streets

my name and face are wanted, dead or alive

and i’ve grown oh so accustomed to hitmen knocking at my door

with guns and bombs and bribing with a bullet to my head

if i knew any better i’d really let them shoot me dead

but i know you'd mourn and hurt, so i yet avoid

the hunters knocking at my locked and guarded door

yet i've a recurring nightmare that refuses to leave my mind

it's late into the night, and i am in your arms,

warm and safe, with no cares in the world,

and a window breaks and in pours hunters and hitmen,

your body twists to shield me despite my scream of protest

and i feel your being jolt as bullets blaze into your back

and i wake with a scream of anguish at a sight untrue

and while i'd love for this world to cry out and die

what if my world is you?