Well do you to want to talk about it,
Do you think you'd understand,
How things can get so f*cked up with such good intentions.
If roofs turn to sky,
Held by the gravity of nothing,
An ironic and literal making of a bed.
You can walk away,
But there is a reason to stay.
They make bad jokes, it's okay not to laugh.
For every push foward, you get the same f*cking push back.
You have nowhere to go, so you found someplace,
you have nothing to say you start lying
What the f*ck were you thinking
I'm not sorry
I'd do it all again.
Now with all the lines so burred between hate, love, and revenge
Are just dead feelings.