jet lag city, always.
a thousand questions are spinning through my mind, but only a few make through my mouth (why did you leave me though?)
the pain inside a small thought can be so deadly sometimes, because behind all those fucking lies maybe you can find comfort. (win the fucking fight)
punch, spit, punch.
who would’ve noticed?
(i) think that the hardest part of the pain was recognizing which one of both was more difficult to take, (ha ha)
but i realized that everytime you smack me down, only makes me /laugh/ because the stupid theory of the conspiracy started like this, and i know that you are growing up tired, as my skin grows more bruises.
hold fucking (tight) to that borderline because that’s the only one that’s keeping you through reality.
you don’t understand how much self hate burns my skin, because as i fucking said i really didn’t care about the bruises, or either (the scars) knives that hurt like words.
show me some fucking guts now.
a mistake?
oh, well if i’m a fucking mistake i’d like to know what the hell are you.
--crack crack crack x2--
maybe you’re true, my love, i’m a nature’s freak, a real mistake. (-a smile-) but i’m a fucking radiohead’s song stuck in repeat in a lonely room full of emotional bullshit.
i didn’t chose.
i don’t have control anymore.
i guess we’re fucked up now.
the pain inside a small thought can be so deadly sometimes, because behind all those fucking lies maybe you can find comfort. (win the fucking fight)
punch, spit, punch.
who would’ve noticed?
(i) think that the hardest part of the pain was recognizing which one of both was more difficult to take, (ha ha)
but i realized that everytime you smack me down, only makes me /laugh/ because the stupid theory of the conspiracy started like this, and i know that you are growing up tired, as my skin grows more bruises.
hold fucking (tight) to that borderline because that’s the only one that’s keeping you through reality.
you don’t understand how much self hate burns my skin, because as i fucking said i really didn’t care about the bruises, or either (the scars) knives that hurt like words.
show me some fucking guts now.
a mistake?
oh, well if i’m a fucking mistake i’d like to know what the hell are you.
--crack crack crack x2--
maybe you’re true, my love, i’m a nature’s freak, a real mistake. (-a smile-) but i’m a fucking radiohead’s song stuck in repeat in a lonely room full of emotional bullshit.
i didn’t chose.
i don’t have control anymore.
i guess we’re fucked up now.