It’s been four years since ten-twenty-one-thirteen
I should be over this by now, back to being me
But I’m still obsessed;
Still a nervous wreck
Still singing the same songs, getting short of breath

So fucking sick of always being nervous;
The ones I love left me behind, and I fucking deserve it
So keep saying you need me, I know it’s s lie
the only thing that I’m good for is wasting your time

I had twelve fucking songs to prove I’m not a wreck
That I’m not a fucking monster,
Obsessed with death
But I broke all my bones
Carved your name across my chest
Put a bullet through my head
So i can finally get some rest

The harder i look, I see it’s not just you;
It’s not just the sleepless nights you put me through
It’s every single fucking person I swore I’d never let down
It’s the way they laugh and they chant
While I’m face down on the ground
Swallowing dirt.
Born to hurt
Born choke on the “nothing” I’m worth.

This is the end of the line for me
The chair is free from my feet
And i can’t fucking breathe
Grasping at the rope
can I stop it in time?
My whole fucking life flashes before my eyes,
I scream for help; no one’s listening
Just the same fucking phone, its always ringing


Still ringing.
Still ringing.

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