I built myself up from broken parts / but an autoclave is a good place to start / the more that I write, the more I feel like a fraud / playing with fire, not praying to a god. // They say hell is a place where the devil makes / something you love into something you hate, / but I have grown happy in ruts of repetitive shame. // But I've got good bones // I tore myself down into broken parts, / this well-oiled machine was a good place to start; / pep-talks wasted in prep school, / that ego-stroking cesspool // left me with spit-shine on these new shoes, / I never wore them right so I sing my blues: / security is expensive, / I’m on a conveyer belt to a life I don't want to live: // “Bootstraps," "the American dream," // well I've spent enough time with gravel in my knees / to know these streets aren't gold / they're asphalt and concrete. // Your suffering is not unique, trade comfort for sweat and trade blood in for ink / I've got good bones, good bones. //Aesthetically, I cannot compete / My muscles have near atrophied / But I've got good bonesTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
