The incisions on your wrist were all for show.
Just like you.
The epitome of self indulgence.
Another farce,
a charade,
and another set of crocodile tears.
So serenade her with your last pathetic suicide love song.
"Broken hearts never mend."
But fools never move one.
And now she's gone,
because of you.
And once again,
you're the epitome of pure self destruction.
Cupid never found his mark.
As we await the insertion,
of blades on flesh.
You part the skin and tell of blades on blood.
So part the fucking skin.
So part the fucking skin.
To tell,
the blades on blood.
To tell the blades on the blood.
The blades on blood.
(She said I love you.)
She said,
she said goodbye.
So cry me a fucking river bitch.
You wouldn't know love,
if it crushed you fucking chest.
Let go.
You wouldn't know love,
if it crushed your fucking chest.
"Razors, roses and a black tomorrow."
You wouldn't know love,
if it crushed your fucking chest.
"Razors, roses and a black tomorrow."
Yeahhh.
(They never showed any affection,
to anything but your ego.)
(A tragedy,
of errors,
at the best,
of times.)
(You are everything,
that's wrong with me.)
(You are everything that I despise.)
You are everything I dreamed,
would die.
You are everything that fades away and slowly dies.
Will you bleed for me,
when suicide,
seems so yesterday?
Will you,
bleed for me?
Will you fucking bleed for me when suicide.
So yesterday.
It's all so fucking yesterday.
So yesterday.
