I have a tendency of ripping off the scars
And digging out the bruises that lead to your heart
And I promise that when you’re dead and gone
I’ll trace back the bruises that I’ve here left for so long
And I don’t know what else I’m supposed to say
Cause after all this time it wouldn’t matter anyway
As you’re hanging, I’m gasping for a breath
I’m thinking what the fuck got me into this mess

An endless bummer
This fucking summer
You know it never seems to end
I’ll write you poems
And play you music
But I will never pretend
That I can get you out of my head

Now I’m breathing, I’m grabbing at the air
Hoping for a hand to reach out to me from somewhere
But I know that, the rumors are all fake
The twisted web consonants and vowels that you might make
And the torrent, of cancer and disease
Flush it with the alcohol and cigarettes please
I know it’s killing you inside
And that’s killing me

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