Because everything's always my fucking fault
this is where we could use a face lift...

youre holding me and crying saying youre doing the best you can
did i ever doubt that ?
i dont think i can.
and you're complaining you're praying but you're still being spread too thin

-when life is all about happiness that cant flow from within.
because material is whats making you fall apart,
i dont really know what to say; i dont know where to start

-so i just walk away;
still what I do to you is "cruel."
well, how could that be?
i guess I'm just an effortless fool.

-still, the cuts keep deepening
with every tear thats shed
in this crimson brilliance,
i assume its just how i was bred
drowning in failure
this stupid heat-of-the-moment passion
you thought this damaged book was well-enough read

well if he doesnt get any time
what is time well spent ?
and if shes so open,
why is she acting so pinned ?

does she really lack hope for me ?
thats bullshit,
she just wants to show how shes so perfectly primped.
and when she talks shit,
you can hear it in her voice:
its not really concern:
she just loves the noise

-flowing from her esophagus
well, that might as well be her coffin
because any past that we shared
well, that might as well be the last time that i cared
if she actually does end up in the loft-end