Cranberry Sin describes himself as an itch you can't scratch. "At least not publicly!" He is a guerilla for dignity and likes to combine lovesickness with depraved populist energy to make you want to solve humanity's dirty puzzle on your own.
Both cruel and sharp, our words did fly,
A twisted dance of pain, you and I.
In the realm of dreams that might have been,
Where hearts edged close but never did win.
You sought deceit, a fraud to weave,
While rage did boil, and how I seethed,
Impulsive rage, my greatest flaw,
In this dance, we see no honored law,
Yet now in fleeting touch I find,
A hollow balm for wounded mind.
Strangers' warmth, a transient balm,
To quell the tempest, bring some calm.
But deep within, a yearning true,
To fix what broke between us two.
Not just for lust, or passions' dance,
But for a soul's complete romance.
To nurture, care, in love's embrace,
Yet never saw an honest trace.
A genuine sign, I did seek,
To hope for more, to bridge the bleak.