{Verse 2: Your faith was strong but you needed proof, you saw her bathing on the roof,
her beauty in the moonlight overthrew you
She tied you to a kitchen chair, she broke your throne, she cut your hair,
and from your lips she drew the Hallelujah}
He watched. He saw her living her slow, happy, life. He hated being the loser; the third wheel with the woman he rightfully deserved.
He was supposed to be with her.
..She was supposed to be with him.
Again and again, relentlessly he'd barge in, announce his presence - Give her more attention then her piano player ever could. The attention she deserved. The attention he longed to give - And in turn receive.
She resented him for not taking the chance. Too busy fighting, fucking.. Too busy distracting himself from commitment. So she gave up, caved in and fell into her quiet musician. A love that based itself on a grudge, but blossomed into something so much more, more then anything that Prussian could have ever offered.
She convinced herself of it.
And everyday he came back, found her alone, and every time that was enough make her facade slip away. Her fantasy was chipping and cracking at the edges - Willingly she let him break that fragile dream when he kissed her.
It had to end.
He laughed when he was forced down; A twisted part of his persona enjoyed it. Couldn't even stop the condescending grin as she hit, screamed and cried; when she would tear into him and all he stood for.
..Because all of it sounded like was a cry for help. A cry it felt like he was conditioned to answer for centuries.
A hallelujah cut short by pride and age-old grudges.
A hallelujah that refused to die.
...
...
...
.
Haha, 2 down 3 to go! Hope you enjoyed the drabbles so far, even with their shortness;; AH! BY THE WAY. Make sure to check out the video that inspired this! I can't believe I forgot the link on the first page, so here it is: (minus the spaces of course.)
http:/ www. youtube .com / watch?v= v Q l M l f 7 M M k 8
