1. |
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Abandoned in my hour of need
Apostolic fashion, flawlessly
Turned, ran, never once looked back
When misfortune struck, when the shit hit the fan
So save your breath, there’s nothing left to understand
Don’t you dare try to shake my hand
Old friend to phrase it simply,
You are dead as dead as dead to me
Your treachery is fucking sickening
//
I swear I will put a bullet through my head
Before I let myself be manipulated again
|
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2. |
Scar Tissue
02:23
|
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|
All’s well that ends well, I’ll see you in hell
We went our separate ways, you put me on a shelf
In the back of your mind, eroding with the sands of time
Burned every picture that we took, a concluded chapter of a burning book
Wasn’t good enough, wasn’t meant to be
So shed your skin and forget about me
Fucking forget about me
Scars on my flesh and in my head, you shed your skin, left me for dead
Left me for fucking dead
|
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3. |
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|
Slow drags from a cigarette,
Exhale contempt and regret
As I regress, I disintegrate,
thoughts race, I can’t fucking see straight
It’s all a mind game,
and I’m on a losing streak
Medicine, to get me through
psychological shrapnel, to romanticize the blues
But these little mother fuckers
just don’t do the trick like they used to
"In the wee small hours of the morning,"
you will never be hers because she isn’t going to call
"As the walls of my room fade away in the gloom,"
I’m wide awake as erroneous epiphany consumes me
All I have to offer is inept
Passive-aggressive insecurity
My affection is burdenous
My love is disgusting
|
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4. |
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|
Your existence is a catechistic failure
A walking testament to all of your mother’s unanswered prayers
The power of Christ cannot compel
The power of Christ cannot…
You’re worthless as a lover
And worth less as a friend
Your value as a human being
Has been appraised at less than shit
Profound frustration at the abomination
you have allowed yourself to become
And when your Oxycontin god forsakes you
I’ll be right there to spit in your fucking face when you’re seizing and dopesick in Hell
The path of least resistance, nodding out of existence
You could have been so much more than a poster child
|
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5. |
Fallacy
02:58
|
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