I remember when all the games began Remember every little lie and every last goodbye Promises you broke, words you choked on and I never walked away, it's still a mystery to me Well I'm so empty I'm better off without you and you're better off without me Well you're so unclean I'm better off without you and you're better off without me
The lying, the bleeding, the screaming Was tearing me apart The hatred (deceiving), the beatings; it's over Paint the mirrors black to forget you I still picture your face and the way you used to taste Roses in a glass, dead and wilted To you this all was nothing Everything to you is nothing
Small, simple, safe price. Rise the wake and carry me with all of my regrets. This is not a small cut that scabs, and dries, and flakes, and heals. And I am not afraid to die. I'm not afraid to bleed, and fuck, and fight. I want the pain of payment. What's left, but a section of pigmy size cuts much like a slew of a thousand unwanted fucks. Would you be my little cut? Would you be my thousand fucks? And make mark leaving space for the guilt to be liquid. To fill, and spill over, and under my thoughts. My sad, sorry, selfish cry out to the cutter. I'm cutting trying to picture your black broken heart. Love is not like anything Especially a fucking knife!