A domestic scene during the holidays

hit you, hit me
i can tell how mad you are
by how hard your fist hits
how many drinks you drank
for you to hit less and less
before you passed out
the mathematics of abuse
i have figured out

hit yourself
say you'll die without me
so i stayed with your demons
your dogs and your damned
now you've grown old
and lost your fire
let the right one in
it is you i desire

now you are broken
and i am healing
now you are reaching
when i am living
but i always needed you
and you me
this is not how romance
should be

i saw as they lowered
the casket
as my hand fired
a silver revolver
but none will know
the hell we went through
and i pray to god
that heaven accepts me

and you