You're all the fucking same.

Worthless, 

And waiting for a savior that was there all along.

You're all the same poison.

With perfect lives and cruel intentions.

A trail of blood.



You've fucking built the skin.



Give the paper something to talk about.

Give the readers something to talk about.

Saylor Lake's got a mean howl.

Careful at night, better watch out!



Decorate her funeral with open wounds,

When the sorrow pours like water,

Down a cold and restless body.

Slowly flows a river;

In the river we will gaze.



Up the stairs, down the hall, 

Into the bed she crawled.

To place a panicked phone call,

But she was struck in the head with a blunt object.



When everything's gone, it's quiet and we want nothing more.